


Welcome to Your Life (there's no turning back)

by punkedupkicks



Series: Queer Avengers [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 1920s, 1930s, Ableism, Ableist Language, Author is trans, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Dyslexic Bucky Barnes, Eugenics, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Issues, Great Depression, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Bucky Barnes, Kid Steve Rogers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period Typical Attitudes, Period Typical Bigotry, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sexuality Crisis, Trans Male Character, Trans Steve Rogers, a lot of internalised attitudes here, i know nothing about nyc and it shows, just a whole lotta yikes, like not a damn thing, not a fun time for our boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 58,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25087321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkedupkicks/pseuds/punkedupkicks
Summary: **i'm still updating dw! i'm making a few chapters at the same time to release them in bulk to make up for the wait! life has been crazy rn but i'm getting them out soon! i'd estimate about december 25-januray 1st! updates will be quicker in the new year!“It’s like...People keep tellin’ me that I'm s’pposed to grow up ‘n find myself a man an’ get married, an’ have kids. Cook the dinner while my husbands at work, ‘n clean the house. Be a good housewife. But it ain’t me...It’s not like I don’t like fellas, I like ‘em just fine, but I couldn’t marry one, ‘cause I’d have to be his wife and it...just don’t fit. ‘S not me. Don’t think it’ll ever be.”Everyone knows Captain Steve Rogers, Captain America, as the peak of male perfection. The symbol of masculinity, the specimen of the perfect man. All 74 inches and 240 pounds of him. But few know that in the 1930s, down in Brooklyn, was little Stevie Rogers who had to press down his chest with bandages and force his voice down an octave to make sure everyone knew him as the man he claimed to be.From child to adulthood, Steve Rogers finds himself, and experiences, love, loss, and patience along the way.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Sarah Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Sarah Rogers & Steve Rogers
Series: Queer Avengers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1700104
Comments: 24
Kudos: 80





	1. 1925

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **trigger warnings at the end of every chapter

* * *

> _“It’s like...People keep tellin’ me that I'm s’pposed to grow up ‘n find myself a man an’ get married, an’ have kids. Cook the dinner while my husbands at work, ‘n clean the house. Be a good housewife. But it ain’t me...It’s not like I don’t like fellas, I like ‘em just fine, but I couldn’t marry one, ‘cause I’d have to be his wife and_ _it...just don’t fit. ‘S not me. Don’t think it’ll ever be.”_

* * *

There were things Stephanie understood, and things she did not. 

She understood drawing and art. She understood how to move her pencil lightly across the page of her battered notebook to create nice and light and sketchy pictures. She knew not to press to hard down on her pencil or she might break it. And she knew to rotate the page so she wouldn’t smudge graphite everywhere. 

That made sense to her. Looking at a flower pot on the windowsill with the orange glow from the evening sunlight and replicating it on her cheap notebook with a cheap and unsharpened pencil made sense to her, the young girl’s mind thrived on creativity. And the ability to occupy herself with merely a pencil and paper for _hours_ as her little fingers scribbled down what looks like an incomprehensible mess that had every intention of being the sunset from her small Brooklyn apartment window, but it looked like a masterpiece to her. 

_Art_ made sense to her. It could be whatever she wanted it to be. There were no rules and regulations, no laws and restrictions, no right or wrongs there. It was just simply whatever she wanted to create; she could create. Even if her seven-year-old fingers were not so finely skilled as she would like them to be –it would definitely be easier to draw faces if she was used to them. 

But there were things she did not understand. 

She didn’t understand that she was supposed to wear dresses and grow her hair out and wear it in a pretty bow instead of keeping it curt and short and a little messy like how she wanted it to be. She didn’t understand that she was supposed to be friends with the girls even though they didn’t like her, but she couldn’t be friends with the boys either. Not when they called her mean things and wouldn’t even let her join in a game of kickball because she was a _girl._

_Girl._ That was another thin that made little sense to her. She knew that it was a word and she knew what it meant –it’s a word that describes the ones who are supposed to be pretty and wear dresses and the ones who can’t show their knees or it will make the boys do naughty things— is what she’d been told, and boys were apparently the ones who were supposed to be rough with each other in the playground and the ones who got to run around and were supposed to like being loud and noisy. It’s a thing that seemed to make sense to everyone else her age, but she wasn’t sure she understood. 

Stephanie knew that she was apparently supposed to be the former, the small and dainty ones who like flowers and prettiness. Which she guessed was fine, she liked those things just fine, flowers were pretty when she drew them on paper when she got the shading right, and she knew from her long, _long_ list of illnesses that she was probably always going to be small and weak. Dainty and fragile or something. But she didn’t know why that made her a girl. It just didn’t seem to be a word that described her accurately. 

Apparently in a few years she will grow up to be pretty and soft. With a flat dress that hangs off her shoulders and hair that is smooth and is styled in a way that is nice and wavy and all the boys like. She hopes those few years take as long as possible. Or maybe if she ignores it, it’ll just go away. 

For an inexplicable reason she just didn’t feel good about it, she didn’t really know how to describe it. She just didn’t like the idea; it made her chest tighten and made it hard to breathe. But she’ll probably just grow out of it. 

When she’s a grown-up she’ll be normal, and that is something she hopes she understands. 

*

“Get back here!” cries the voice of a young child, calling back to the boy who had just shoved Stephanie into a pile of mud, her cheap dress was now covered with dirt, mud and blood. And it was now torn and frayed around the edges. 

The boy just laughs at her “That’s what you get for thinkin’ you could say that to me!” he sneers with a cruel laugh and walks off. 

The boy was much larger than she was, she wasn’t sure of his age but he must’ve been older than her, just given his size. But she wasn’t sure, Stephanie was very small anyway, even smaller than most children her age was anyway. 

“Get-” she tried to call out, but was cut off by a series of harsh coughs that raged through her lungs. 

She tried to smooth out her breathing, it’s probably her asthma, she knew she had it but she didn’t care much. Honestly, it wasn’t a big deal, her mom just overreacts sometimes, just because she could barely walk up the steps to her flat without having an asthma attack didn’t mean she needed to be babied, she wasn’t weak for Christ sake. 

She mentally curses, her mom and told her she wasn’t to say the lords name in vain. 

Still coughing, she tried to sit up properly, but was unsuccessful, she was still on her knees with one hand over her chest and the other shakily propping herself up from the ground. The gravel was digging into her skinny knees, she could feel them pressing into the cuts of her legs. Ugh, that’s going to be a pain to pull out later. 

If her mom would just let her wear trousers like all the boys in her class then she wouldn’t even need to do that, but instead she’s made to wear these stupid dresses that just are too flowy and just don’t feel right on her. She’d much prefer to wear at _least_ some shorts, thankyouverymuch. 

Suddenly, while she is still wheezing, she feels a hand that she does not recognise touch her shoulder. 

Yelping back from the mystery someone her head falls back onto the gravel with a loud _thunk_ _._ She winces, that will probably leave a bruise. 

She sits up as fast as lightning as tries to stand up but is unable to, her weak legs giving out beneath her and she falls back on her butt. 

“Woah, woah! Are you okay?!” the mystery person says. It’s a boy, she recognises. He has brown hair and steel blue eyes. He doesn’t have a mean face and he seems nice but she isn’t taking any chances, she clenches her fist as she grunts. 

The boy apparently noticed her tiny fist clench and her battered and bruised knuckles tense, seeing as he also sat down across from her and crossed his legs over in a friendly matter. 

She calmed down a bit, though she didn’t take her guard down, you could never be too careful on this side of Brooklyn. 

“What’s your name?” the boy asks. 

She clenches her jaw a bit and sends him a look which she hopes is the slightest bit intimidating. But when the boy just sits there innocently and waits for her name she answers “Stephanie Rogers.” she spits through her grinding teeth; she honestly hates that name. It sounds dumb and stupid and way too girly for Stephanie’s taste, and she’s never met another Stephanie before so everyone calls her that, unlike Emily Mckendrick that just gets called by her last name because Emily Smith is older, she’s not lucky like Mckendrick. 

The boy smiles “Ooooo, fancy!” the boy proclaims, he smiles and Stephanie can see he’s missing a tooth on his bottom row. 

“My names James Buchanan Barnes.” the boy –James- says with a confident smile. 

Stephanie rolls her eyes “D’you always say your full name?” she retorts, picking at some of the weeds growing through the gravelly path that she’s sitting on. 

But her question gets ignored. James’ brow creases “You talk funny.” he points out. But not in a mocking way, just as an observation. 

Stephanie’s face hardens again, she knew how this usually went. First, she speaks and then they make fun and then comes the punching, and then the lecture from mom “Wha’d ya mean?” 

The James boy sits closer “I dunno...” he hesitates “Where ya from?” he asks in a nice voice. 

Stephanie thinks she can trust this James boy, she relaxes slightly. 

She sighs, feeling the relief from no longer clenching her tiny fist harder than she should be able to “Brooklyn born ‘n raised.” she answers “Not that it’s any of your business.” even though she thinks she can trust him does not mean she isn’t allowed to be a ‘smartass’ as her mom calls it. 

“Really? You don’t sound it.” James said. 

Stephanie hummed “Well, my Mom’s from Ireland, so that’s why I talk funny I guess, an’ most our neighbours are from there too I think, so I dunno.” she explains, the pain in her cut and bleeding knees are starting to kick in and it stings. 

“Ah, okay. That makes sense.” James says “My Mom’s Romanian or somethin’ I think, but she was born here so I dunno.” 

“Ah.” Stephanie says. Not sure where the conversation could go from here. This is probably the friendliest conversation she’s ever had with other kids her age, the girls in the her class didn’t like her because she was “ _too tomboy-_ _ish_ _"_ and the boys in her class didn’t like her either because they thought she was trying to be a boy, which she didn’t understand. 

“How old’re you?” James asks “I jus’ turned eight on the tenth ‘a march.” 

“Seven.” she answers “Mine was July fourth.” 

“Oh cool. Ain’t that America’s Independence Day or somethin’?” 

She shrugs “I guess.” 

“Ha. I’m older than you.” he teases, but Stephanie could tell that it wasn’t out of meanness, this James boy just seemed to be pretty confident, but not in an ‘I’m better than you’ kind of way, but he definitely wasn’t shy “What grade’re you in?” 

“Uh, first. But we’re on the summer vacation right now, so. I guess second next year.” she counts with her fingers, she had been very good at counting things recently, she could even count to one hundred. Her mom was very proud. 

“Cool!” James marvels “We’re in the same year then, ain’t that cool?” 

“But you’re eight, ain’t you supposed to be in the one above?” 

James looked sad now “Yeah,” he lets out a low sigh “but I got this ‘word blindness’ thing, which means I can’ read right, the letters are all movin’ about on the page and I don’t spell too well.” lamented James. Stephanie, now feeling the need to comfort the boy, moved over to sit next to him instead of across from him. It’s the least she could do. 

“And like, we had ta go to the doctor for it, ‘n he says am retarded so I got held back ‘cause of it.” James presses his mouth into a thin line. 

“You don’t look that stupid.” Stephanie assured, it’s not like she could say much herself, what with her asthma, scoliosis and everything else. Plus, she just really didn’t care, there was actual bullies walking round beating on people and nobody did a single thing, there were far worse people. 

James tried to smile but it didn’t look as sure as it did previously “Thanks. My Ma’s keepin’ real quiet somehow, I dunno but she said she’s not gonna let people know ‘cause they’re gonna be mean to me.” James admits. Stephanie wonders why he’s telling her. 

Stephanie sighs, what a day this was “I got similar stuff, James...well, kinda. I’m sick all the time. I don’t work right either, I mean.” Stephanie comforted, she met James’ steel blue eyes and smile. James smiled back. 

It’s colder now, a cool breeze blows by them and Stephanie feels goosebumps go up her arms, she looks around and notices that it’s not nearly as bright as it was a few minutes ago, the sky now a dim blue-grey colour rather than the bright baby blue it was a minute ago, kind of like James’ eyes. She bets she could draw a picture out of it. 

James snorts “So, we’re both a lil weird, aren’t we?” 

“Guess so.” 

Stephanie looks at the sky again and decides it's probably time she went home, her mom is probably worried. 

“I think I gotta get goin’, James.” she says as she stands up on wobbly legs that ache now that she’s standing on them. 

James stands up to. He’s much taller than she thought he’d be, and they’re only one year apart in age. Or maybe Stephanie’s just that small “Okay.” 

She begins to walk away when James calls out to her again “You said your name was Stephanie?” he asks, she cringes. She really, really hates that name. 

“Yeah.” she says through gritted teeth “But that’s stupid, call me ‘Steph’ or something instead.” 

“Okay.” James says, James could also do with a nickname. 

“I gotta go, bye Bucky.” 

James’ - _Bucky’s_ \- brow furrows “But my name’s James Buchanan.” he remarks in confusion. 

“Mm. I like Bucky better.” 

Bucky snorts “Okay. Bye, Steph.” he called back with a smile, testing the name on his lips. Stephanie decides she really likes the name Steph. 

“Ma!” Stephanie called as she walked into her and her mom’s small apartment, her little footsteps were loud on the cheap hardwood floor “I gotta tell you somethin’!” 

“I’m in the bedroom darling!” her mother called from the bedroom. 

She made her way to her mom’s bedroom; the door was unlocked so she ran straight in and sat on the bed. Her mom turned to look at her with that bright cheery smile that she usually had whenever her child would address her; her styled blond curls were droopy and messy from being in hairnet all day. 

In hands was a book, she must’ve been reading, Stephanie had never really seen her mother read much before, she was much more of a radio person. 

Her smile suddenly dropped and went both serious and worried at the same time “Stephanie. What on earth is that on your face?” she demanded in an even tone. Uh-oh. 

_Oh no._ Stephanie suddenly remembered that she had gotten into yet again another fight not even half an hour earlier, she hadn’t seen her face yet, but she bets it’s probably covered with dirt and bruises. She _had_ gotten funny looks walking home. Funny, she had been so focused on James that she hadn’t even stopped to think about cleaning up before she went home. Maybe that’s a good thing, she thinks, she would’ve had to of gone into the ladies'’ bathroom to clean up, and she feels like she isn’t really allowed in there, but she knows she isn’t allowed in the boys' bathroom, it’s a strange feeling. 

Her mother still has an expecting look on her face, and Stephanie freezes slightly, it’s too late to think of an excuse. 

She still doesn’t answer. Her mother sighs “Did you get in another fight?” she asks, but Stephanie knows by her tone that it isn’t really a question. 

Stephanie shrinks, her face falling towards her lap, she didn’t mean to get in a fight! Honest! But that big boy had tried to pull down Eilidh Wallace’s skirt and that was mean! Boy’s shouldn’t be allowed to do that! _Someone_ had to tell him! 

Even though she had swung first and okay, sure, it’s _technically_ her who started it. But she just wanted to tell him that it was wrong! She had never wanted to disappoint her mother, and now she feels awful. But she still doesn’t regret it “’M sorry.” she apologised in a way she hopes is convincing. 

Apparently not convincing enough “No you’re not.” her mother disagreed in ‘matter-of-fact' tone, Stephanie sighs, she knows she’s right. 

“No, I'm not.” she states. 

“Oh, Jesus Christ...” her mother mumbles, pinching the bridge of her nose. Stephanie could only hear her because she was on her good side, her hearing in the left side had been getting worse recently. 

Uh-oh. She’s angry. 

“I. Mom, I know I prob’bly shouldn’ do it but what was I supposed to do?! Just stand there?!” she yelled. 

Her mother turned back to look at her face now hard, it looks a lot like her ‘I’m very cross with you and you’re about to get lectured face’ that Stephanie had way more times than a girl her age probably should of. 

Her mother sighed so heavily that her blond hair moved and her chest heaved “What did he do?” she asked as she picked up a wet cotton from the bedside table and began to wipe some of the dirt and probably blood from Stephanie’s battered face. 

She winced before she could answer “ _Ow!”_ she yelped as the cotton came into contact with the probably-a-gash under her eye. 

Her mother waved a finger with her free hand “See, this is what happens when you _don’t listen to me.”_ that annoyed Stephanie, her mom didn’t get it! She couldn’t just stand there when people were being bullied, she _despised_ bullies. And she felt that if she did nothing, then she would be as bad as the bullies. 

Grunting, she wiped some of her loose strands of her too-long hair behind her ear “But _Maaaaa_ _!”_ she wined “He tried to pull down Eilidh's skirt! What was I s’pposed to do?! Just stand there?!” she reiterated. 

The wiping of her face didn’t hurt that much anymore, but she knew it would definitely leave some bruises. Her mother sighed for what must’ve been the hundredth time “I’m not sayin’ that he was right Stephanie, he obviously wasn’t. But you need to learn that it’s okay _not_ to always respond with your fists. They’re always going to be bullies, but you don’t need to fight off every single one.” she lectured. 

Stephanie huffed. She just didn’t get it! 

“I know! But it’s not right!” she argued. 

“Did you even try talking to him before you swung?” she said calmly. 

Well...Stephanie hadn’t considered that one “I- no... I didn’t...” she mumbled meekly as her eyes shifted to the side, the flower pot on the window looks very nice. 

Instead of exploding like she expected, her mother just chuckled. Her red-painted lips twitching upwards in a smile. 

“Of course, you didn’t.” she chirped earnestly. Her put down the wet rag back on the bed side table. Stephanie could see that it was now a brown-red colour. Yucky. 

She didn’t seem so angry anymore, but Stephanie knew from experience that this definitely wouldn’t be the last she would hear of this. 

“You’re not mad?” 

Her mother raised her left eyebrow “Oh, I’m definitely still mad darlin’, but I don’t think I’m quite in the mood to start yellin’” she clarified. Oh. 

Her mother moved her hands to play with Stephanie’s loose hair, it was matted and dirty from her fight. And the fact that Stephanie absolutely refused to have anything down with it, she’d rather let it hang loose and forget about it then constantly have the reminder that it was long enough to be styled. She’d much rather have short hair but every time she told the hairdresser that she’d always chuckled and would never cut it shorter than her chin. 

“What did you want to tell me darlin’?” 

OH! Stephanie almost forgot! “Oh! Um, I made a friend today!” she beamed with excitement. 

“Really? That’s great!” her mother beamed, ruffling her hair “What's her name?” 

Stephanie squinted her eyes and furrowed her brows. She was pretty sure Bucky wasn’t a girl, why would her mom assume that she couldn’t be friends with a boy? Was she supposed to only be friends with girls? 

She doesn’t really know for sure; she’s never really had a proper friend before. 

“Um, James is a boy, Ma.” her mom’s eyes go a bit wide before settling normally again. Uh-oh, was she mad? 

“ _Oh.”_ she chuckles “Well that’s alright, as long as he’s not a troublemaker- is he?” 

“No, Ma.” 

“Well that’s quite alright then, I’m gonna run you a bath now. You’re filthy.” her mother ruffles her hair; she then gets up and walks to the bathroom. Stephanie hears her turn on the tap and the water fill up the bathtub. 

Stephanie smiles softly to herself. She made a _friend_ today. 

*

Stephanie sees Bucky at the park the next day. He's sitting at the bench with a book in his hands, he looks annoyed. 

“Bucky!” she calls, jogging over to him. 

He looks up from his book and his scowl lessens, a small ghost of a smile appearing on his face, although his hands are tensed around the pages of the book. Stephanie remembers to yesterday when he said that he had trouble reading, she wonders why he’s doing it then, poor guy. 

Bucky scoots over slightly on the bench and Stephanie sits next to him, her feet dangling “Hey.” she greets with a smile, she made sure to look him in the eye, her mom said that she’s supposed to do that when she talks to people. 

“Hey.” he greets back, his tone of voice is noticeably less happy the it was yesterday when she had first met the boy. 

“Wha’cha readin’?” she inquires, eyeing the small dark read book in the boy’s hand. 

Bucky groans loudly “I dunno, somethin’ stupid.” he scoffs, annoyed “Can barely even read it.” he mumbles miserably. 

“Why you readin’ it then?” she wonders. 

Bucky sighs “’Cause I'm terrible at it, my Ma wants me to get some practice in so when we go back to school so I know what I'm doin’. I don’t see the point though; I _suck_ at it!” he complains and then groans, his small arms fall to his lap in annoyance, the book nearly slides onto the ground but Bucky is able to catch it in time. 

Is he okay? Stephanie wonders “Hey, are you alright?” she asks, eyeing the distressed boy. 

Bucky sighs “Yeah, I just _really_ hate reading.” Bucky visibly deflated, his small shoulders sagging as his gaze feel to his lap. 

Stephanie puts a reassuring hand on Bucky’s shoulder like her mom does to her whenever she’s upset and she’s trying to comfort him. 

Bucky seems to be comforted by this as he turns to her and smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes “Thanks.” he thanks her. 

Stephanie eyes the red book that is still clutched tensely in the boy’s bony fingers, maybe she should help him, she’s heard that’s what good friends are supposed to do “Hey,” she begins, hesitant and careful, as to not offend him. She had only made a friend _yesterday_ and she wasn’t ready to get into a fist fight with him, or anger him yet. Bucky leaned closer to show that he was listening “I was wonderin’...do you want me to, um, help you, with that...?” she asks cautiously. She doesn’t want to come across as rude. 

She asks because she feels like she could help Bucky, she wants to help him, ‘cause that’s what friends are for. 

The tenseness in the boy’s fingers increase slightly and his face gains a hardness and a scowl that was not there before. Oh no. Stephanie thinks, she hadn’t meant to offend him, she just wanted to help... 

“I ain’t stupid.” Bucky said curtly and stiffly, he looks at Stephanie like he’s being insulted. 

Stephanie gulps, she never said that...She doesn’t think Bucky’s stupid at _all._

She scoots over a little bit closer to him (albeit with difficulty when her small feet are nowhere near touching the ground) “I know you ain’t!” she defends, panicked. She doesn’t want Bucky to think that she’s like those bullies that probably pick on him...does Bucky get bullied? 

“I know you’re not stupid, but I was jus’ wonderin’ if you wanted help...because you seem like you’re struggling...” vacillated Stephanie. She noticed that Bucky’s mood is the exact opposite than it was yesterday, yesterday he’d been sadder about it, –whatever it was- but today he just seems aggravated and annoyed. Stephanie can relate to people thinking that you’re weak, or helpless just because you’re ‘impaired’. 

“I’m not struggling.” he argues, but his tone of voice and facial expression suggest that he doesn’t really believe that himself, he seems like he’s trying to convince himself rather than Stephanie. 

“Everybody needs help sometimes, Bucky. Like, I got asthma and I'm bad in one ear, so I need to uh, know that.” she said automatically. 

The young boy seemed to relax a bit at that, his fingers noticeably relaxed and his face lost a bit of his edge. He sighed and then stayed quiet for a long while, gathering his thoughts. 

“Okay... _fine._ You can help.” Bucky huffed admittedly. 

“Yes!” Stephanie beamed. She moved closer to Bucky until their knees were almost touching. 

She picks up the book and opens it to the page where Bucky left off, the first page. She held it out to him “Okay, so the first sentence goes...” 

*

The two children had gotten closer over the course of the past couple of weeks. They had met up every day at the park, which they could afford to do since school was finished for summer vacation. Stephanie had found out more things about Bucky. That his mom was pregnant with twins, and that he had a three-year-old sister named Rebecca, or Becca for short. Stephanie had also learned that Bucky was here a lot because he couldn’t stand to be in his tiny home with a little sister running around, and with his mom pregnant with two more. It must be a _nightmare_ to have siblings. Stephanie’s glad she’s an only child. 

Bucky doesn’t talk about his dad much, though... And Stephanie doesn’t really ask, doesn’t really care to be honest. She doesn’t have a dad so she’d have nothing to say about it, she does find it a bit out, though. But she doesn’t really think about it. 

He had also learned about her, as well. She had told him that her mom was a nurse, and that she and her dad moved her from Ireland so they could get married. And how her dad died in the war. 

They also talked about some cheerier subjects, like colouring books and cartoons. Bucky had also learned that Stephanie liked to draw, and he was very intrigued, if not a little nosey. 

The two children were now having lunch and sitting under a tree in the park. The sun was out and it was warm and the sun shining down on them had decorated Bucky’s face with faint freckles around his nose, and they made him look quite pretty, she thinks, but she doesn’t know if she’s supposed to use that word to describe boys or not. But he did look very pretty. 

She had told him that. Bucky had laughed. 

“But you do!” Stephanie teased as she added another scribble of shading onto her drawing that was _clearly_ a dog, and not a cat. Thank you very much, Bucky. 

“I ain’t pretty. I am a strapping young man I’ll have you know!” 

“Pfffft. Okay.” she giggles. Bucky was really funny sometimes. 

“Ma says that I am a dapper young fella, so shut up.” his words sound harsh but his smile is wide and his tone is anything but sharp and mean. And his eyes are bright and shiny, and his shoulders are occasionally moving up and down when he chuckles. 

“She only says that ‘cause she doesn’t wanna tell you, you have a real ugly mug.” 

Bucky stole a piece of ham from Stephanie’s sandwich and ate it “ _Hey!”_ Stephanie protested. 

“Revenge!” Bucky snorted and then make-laughed maniacally “Mwuhahahaha!” 

Stephanie then tugged some blades of grass out of the ground and then threw a handful of loose grass at Bucky’s face. Bucky whined over-dramatically. Falling backwards with his hand over his chest like how those women fainted in those funny moving pictures that had no sound, and a cheesy piano track instead. 

Giggling, Stephanie added some more shading onto her drawing “That’s what ya get for eating my food, you jerk!” 

Bucky picked himself back up and returned to his cheese sandwich. He hadn’t brought his book today; which Stephanie thought was maybe for the best. The poor boy was stressing out of his absolute mind just trying to get through a single paragraph, and although Stephanie did try to help, she understood that he needed a break sometimes. Like when she was in a room with too many people and she found it hard to breathe –and not because of her asthma- and her mom had to take her out so she would calm down. ‘Nervous trouble’ the doctor had called it. 

“What are you doin’ later?” Bucky asks with a mouth full of cheese. Gross. 

“Don’ talk with your mouth full!” 

Bucky swallowed his food “Sorry. What are you doin’ later?” he asks again, sans cheese. 

Stephanie fiddles with a few blades of grass “Nothin’. You?” 

Bucky shrugs “Nothin’...can I come over to yours?” Stephanie stops picking at the grass. She had never had anyone over before, she doesn’t.... entirely hate the idea. 

“Why?” is what she ends up saying. 

“’Cause I wanna. Ain’t that what friends do?” Bucky puzzled. Stephanie now realises just how inexperienced the both of them are with friends. 

“Mmm. Okay! But we gotta ask my mom first when we get there, but I'll think she’ll be okay with it...but you’re a boy.” Stephanie shrugs. Her mom had never really said. But she knew she was apparently supposed to be friends with girls instead, for whatever reason...but her mom will probably be okay with it. Bucky wasn’t a troublemaker. 

Bucky’s brow furrows “Why does it matter that I’m a boy?” he asks, confused. 

Stephanie is a little bit confused herself. The other boys in her year were allowed to be friends with boys, but grown-ups said that Stephanie should be friends with girls and like pink and wear dresses, for some reason. Stephanie wasn’t a huge fan of that idea; she didn’t like it but she doesn’t really know why. 

She shrugs “I dunno, when I told Ma about you, she asked why I wasn’t friends with girls, but I don’ get it...” 

“That’s dumb. My ma didn’t care when I said you were a girl.” 

“Hmm.” she hummed in acknowledgement “Well I mean mine wasn’t mad or anything, she jus’ wasn’t expecting it I don’t think...jus’ as long as you ain’t a troublemaker.” 

Bucky giggled. 

“ _Are you?”_ challenged Stephanie as she squints her eyes in an over-dramatic manner. 

Bucky smiles so wide that Stephanie can see that his big tooth is coming in “I ain’t! I promise!” he giggles. It’s cute. 

“Are _you_ a troublemaker?” Bucky fires back in a joking manner. Although the two young children both know that it’s entirely a joke, it’s a valid question. It was an odd week if you didn’t hear about little Stephanie Rogers getting into another scrap behind a building and getting her face thrown into the trash. Although she doesn’t know if she’d call herself a troublemaker, though. She thinks that name ought to be reserved for the boys who were walking around pulling girls skirts down in the first place. 

“Nah.” she smiles and then looks back down to her paper “I just know what’s mean and what’s not...That’s it.” she defends. She adds some more colouring to the dog’s fur. 

Bucky leans back on his arms and spreads his legs out, she hears some of the dry grass crush under his hands with her good ear “I guess that’s fair...I mean...someone gotta tell ‘em off, right?” 

“Yes! Exactly!” she agrees, finally, someone had understood. 

Bucky flings a daisy at her and it gets stuck in her hair. She takes it out and flings it back “Jerk!” she cries, her hair was tangled enough already. 

“Punk.” Bucky shoots back affectionately. 

“Hey!” she protests. 

“Huh?” 

“That’s _mean,_ Bucky! It’s a mean word!” 

“Pretty sure so is Jerk.” 

Snorting, she closes over her sketchpad and returns to her ham sandwich “But ya deserve it.” 

“Then so do you, _puuuuunk_ _.”_ Bucky drawls, teasing her. But she doesn’t really mind. 

It’s strange. She had only met Bucky some couple of weeks ago, and yet she already feels comfortable enough with him to already be chucking daisy’s and grass at each other and stealing each other’s ham –well that last one was more of Bucky’s thing, the jerk— but it doesn’t feel strange to her. It feels _right_ in a weird way. She had only met this boy less than a month ago and she felt like she had known him forever. 

She has a strange feeling that Bucky’s going to be around for a while. And she finds she doesn’t have a problem with it. 

“Your ma’s not gonna wanna hear you say that word, Bucky.” 

Bucky only giggled “So when we gonna see your ma?” 

She rolls her eyes “When you’re done with your sandwich, _jerk.”_

“Mom!” the young girl hollered as she opened the door to her and her mother’s small shoebox of an apartment. 

“I’m in the kitchen, darling!” her mother’s sweet voice called from the kitchen. 

The two children walk in, Stephanie closes the door behind her “Take your shoes off Bucky!” Stephanie exclaims when she glances at the cheap muddy mess that is Bucky’s shoes. Her mom gave Stephanie a huge row last time she came home with muddy shoes because she had accidentally gotten mud everywhere. They now have a rug when they enter. 

Bucky takes his shoes off and so does Stephanie. 

They go into the small kitchen and there is Stephanie’s mom, she was standing at the counter with the radio turned over with a screwdriver stuck in it, she was probably trying to fic it again. It kept playing up when they changed the channel. 

“Hey, Ma!” she beams and her mom turns around. 

The screwdriver and radio were placed back down on the counter “Hi, darlin’.” she says lovingly as she bends down and presses a small kiss to the top of her daughter’s head “D’you have fun today?” she asks as she stands back up, she’s still wearing her nurse's uniform and she smells slightly and her hair is flat and has some hairs sticking up all over the place from being in a hairnet all day. 

“Yeah! An’ I brought Bucky!” Stephanie declared happily. 

Bucky’s now ricking backwards and forwards on his heel as his arms swing back and forth “I-It’s nice to m-meet you, ma’am.” Bucky stutters as he sticks his arm out at lightning fast speed, he looks as stiff as a board. Stephanie barely conceals her giggles. 

Her mother smiles and leans down and then takes Bucky’s small hand in hers “What a gentleman! It’s nice to meet you, James.” she shakes the young boy’s hand and it shakes Bucky’s whole arm. 

“Y-You too, ma’am.” 

She chuckled “That’s Mrs. Rogers to you.” she greets and gives a kind smile. 

They drop hands “So, tell me about yourself, James.” she said. 

“Oh, uh...” they young boy’s dark brow furrows as if in deep thought “I, I'm eight years old and I hate reading and um, I’m good at math! And um, Stephanie says I’m ugly-” 

“I didn’t say that!” she defends. Okay so maybe she _has_ said that, but only as a joke! 

“Yes, you _did!”_ Bucky teases. 

“Ma, I didn’t!” she insists. She does not want to get in trouble. 

But instead, her mother just laughs “That’s alright, James. I’m sure she was just having a laugh.” 

“I hope she was...My ma says I’m a handsome young man!” 

“I’m sure she does.” 

When her mother drops finishing giggling, Stephanie asks “Ma, can Bucky play here today? _Pleaaaaase?”_ well, there might not be much playing, the Rogers' couldn’t ever afford much. But the two children will probably still find a way to have fun 

_“_ Mm.” her mother responded, she then she looked up to the ceiling as if in thought. She brings a hand up to her head and she runs her strong hands through her hair, her messy blond locks sticking up in every-which-way. 

She ponders for about a second before she dropped her hands to her hip “Well, alright.” she confirmed her red painted lips quirked upwards in a smile “Do I know your mother, James? I should probably give her a call if you’re gonna be over here. I wouldn’t want her to worry...” she unties the apron from behind her back and sets it on the back of one of the dining room chairs. 

“Oh uh,” Bucky begins “Her name is W...” Bucky pauses as his eyebrows scrunches up. Maybe he couldn’t remember? “W-Winifred Barnes, ma’am. I don’t think I can remember the number though.” he admits. Stephanie wonders if that’s a mental thing or a Bucky thing. 

“Oh, that’s alright, James! I think I saw her name in the phonebook downstairs –give me a moment and I’ll head down and give her a ring. Let me get out of these rags first.” she then turned her back to the two children and walked towards her bedroom door “Have fun, kids. Don’t break anythin’!” she chirped before she quietly closed the door. 

Now it was just Stephanie and Bucky standing in the small, cheap kitchen. 

“I could barely un’erstand her.” Bucky suddenly observed. 

“Really? She don’t talk that much different than I do.” 

“Mm. I can barely understand you as well, though.” 

“Jerk.” 

“Punk.” 

*

“Stephanie, would you _please_ calm down?!” her mother practically pleads for her child to calm down, but the brush with all it’s terrible bristles just tug too harshly against Stephanie’s hair, and her sensitive scalp just cries in pain as the brush tries to make its way through Stephanie’s dishevelled, ragged, matted mess of blonde hair that she took zero care in, she’d rather have it knotted and full of dirt than have it all nice and neat like the girls in her class. 

\--Rat’s tails, as the other girls would describe her hair. 

She knows that her mom means well and she just wants her daughter to look nice and presentable for the first day back at school tomorrow, but Stephanie just _doesn’t_ want to have her hair brushed, it hurts too much and it makes her feel uncomfortable. Physically and something else she can’t quite grasp. 

“But it hurts!” she protests, kicking her small legs back and forth as they hang off the stool. 

Her mother sighed and stopped brushing for a moment before continuing, although much slower than before “I know, darlin’. I’m being as gentle as I can. But I can’t brush your hair if you don’t stay still.” 

Stephanie knows she’s right, but she still doesn’t like it. She didn’t understand why she couldn't have a boy’s haircut, no matter how many times t had been ‘explained’ to her “I know, but it still – _OW!”_ she yelps in pain when her mother pulls on a particularly painful knot, the girl’s small hands flew to her hair and she grabbed where her mother just brushed. 

“I’m sorry, Stephanie. But we _need_ to get through all the tugs tonight, if we don’t, it’ll be harder to brush in the mornin’. It’s been _weeks_ since you’ve let me brush it properly, and whenever you do it you don’t get all the knots at the back, darlin’.” her hands gently move the young girl’s hands back down to her side “I’m not tryin’ to make it painful, but it’s just what happens when you leave it all knotted.” Stephanie groans, she knows her mom is right, but it still hurts. 

“But _Maaaaa_ _!_ It hurts!” 

“Well, we’re almost done, it’ll be over before you know it. And this is hardly the worse you’ve been during this.” her mother soothes. Stephanie knows what she’s referring to, usually there’s kicking and screaming and wailing, and usually Stephanie’s crying by now. Because she just, _hates_ it. 

“I know, Ma...” 

“I just wish you took better care of your hair, Stephanie. Then this would be much easier.” 

She sighs “I know.” 

*

Stephanie winces as her mother presses a soft and damp rag to Stephanie’s forehead “Ow!” 

“This is what happens when you go askin’ for a square go, Stephanie. You get smashed around and then you get injured.” 

She scoffs. She didn’t _go_ _askin'_ _for a square go._ Maybe that big kid shouldn’t have been hitting on that other kid, then maybe she would’ve ‘kept her hands to herself’. 

The young girl doesn’t question that her mom talks like she’s speaking from experience. Because she has had experience. Stephanie doesn’t know much, but she does know that back in Ireland, her mother used to be one of those ladies who burned things and tied themselves to churches or something? Suffra --something. 

Something about fighting for rights. For girls to be equal to boys, or something. Stephanie doesn’t know why anyone would have a problem with that, but apparently adult boys were just as mean as boys her age were. 

Her mother takes a plaster from the box, she peels of the wrapper and places it on the young child’s face. It stings as she does so. 

“All better?” 

“...yeah.” Stephanie admits. Her arms and legs ache now, she’s tired. 

“Just promise you’ll be careful next time.” 

“I will. I promise.” 

*

She did not, in fact. Be careful next time. 

This time, Stephanie was staring up at a much larger boy who was staring down at her like she was weak “Stay out of it! This don’t have anything to do with you!” he snarls at her. Stephanie wants nothing more than to punch him in the jaw so hard that he chokes on his own teeth. 

There’s a boy lying on the ground behind the large boy who was staring down Stephanie, he’s clutching his side and there are several sore-looking bruises on his face, yellow, red and purple decorating his features and his now-crooked nose. She vaguely recognises his face, although she can’t place his name. 

“SO!?” she snaps back. 

There are two other boys standing close to the other boy, probably his friends. They’re also quite big and they both have scowls on their faces. 

“W-What do you think you’re doing?! You can’t just hit people like that when they’ve done nothing wrong! You bully!” 

The three boys laugh at her like there’s something funny about this. 

“C’mon then.” the boys said “Hit me!” he challenges and he motions to his face and he leans forward ever-so-slightly, like he’s painting a big fat red target on his face or something. 

“But I thought we weren’t supposed to hit girls.” one of the bother boys protested. 

The middle-boy laughs “She’s barely even a girl! I bet she’s just a boy in a dress!” 

_What’s that supposed to mean?_

“C’mon then, _Steve.”_ the boy sneers, and he spits that like it’s an insult. 

The boy walks home with a broken jaw, and Stephanie with a bruised ego, among other things. 

*

“Stephanie,” her mother says from behind her. She’s sitting on the floor, her homework on the cheap wooden floor in front of her. It’s for her spelling words and she’d always been good at them, she had even helped Bucky do them yesterday. He still didn’t fully ‘get it’ but she firmly believes that he’ll get there someday. 

The memory of that boy calling her ‘Steve’ the other day just won’t leave her head; it had been bothering her all week and even drawing wouldn’t take her mind off it. 

She didn’t realise it in the moment –she was too distracted by punching that nameless boy-- but now that she couldn’t help but think about it, she’s noticing how _right_ that felt, it felt like she was finally being seen. 

When she didn’t respond, her mom tried for a second time “Stephanie, are you alright darlin’?” 

“Please don’ call me that.” she blurted suddenly. 

There’s a pause. 

“What?” her mother puzzled. She sat down on their cheap wooden floor; her mother puts a warm hand on the small girl's thin shoulder and turns her around so she’s facing her mother. But her gaze is still set towards the floor. 

“I don’ like it.” she confirms Don’ wanna be ‘Stephanie’.” 

Her mother’s voice is whispery when she asks “Why not?” 

She shrugs “Dunno, just...don’t.” 

“It’s the name your father and I gave you.” 

“I know...I just...I dunno.” 

Her mother starts stroking her hair gently, like how she did whenever she was upset or panicking and tried to get her to calm down “...Then...who are you supposed to be...?” she asks, but it’s kind, and her tone is unassuming. She doesn’t sound like anything right now; her voice doesn’t give any hints that she’s feeling one way or another. 

She shrugs again “I dunno...just ain’t Stephanie.” 

There’s another too-long pause where her mom doesn’t answer. 

“Ma?” she tries. 

“What do you want to be called, then?” 

Sighing, she fidgets with the hem of her skirt “I dunno, Bucky calls me ‘Steph’, as a nickname.” 

“Alright.” 

“Huh?” 

“Alright, if that’s what you want to be called...If that’s what makes you comfortable, then I don’t see a problem.” 

“Thanks, Mom.” 

“No problem, dear.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> -r-slur  
> -internalised ableism  
> -referenced/implied ableism  
> -mild feelings of gender dysphoria
> 
> hello, hello, hello.
> 
> aight, so, here we go, motherfuckers. this is gonna be a long one. this is a fic idea that i've had for a wHile so i'm glad that i'm finally in a headspace to write it!!
> 
> ik, IK, i haven't forgotten abt my other fics, i would mark them as complete if i was. i just had to take a mini mental health break from writing em for a while, and like, writers block. but i'm slowly working my way back to those fics, but this is where my main focus is now, :)
> 
> there will be offensive/triggering words in this. there will be a trigger warning in the end notes of every fic.
> 
> (i just looked at some of the official props for tfa and one of them has a list for all of his illnesses. and one of them says "nervous trouble of any sort.", which was how the army used to phrase anxiety disorders and panic-attack related things,,, steve rogers canonically has anxiety,,
> 
> btw, steve is referred to by his deadname and by the wrong pronouns because he doesn't know he's a guy yet, and like imposed gender roles from the 1930s are strESSfuL. but if u are writing a flashback of a trans character you should be using their new name and pronouns, since they're looking back on it from a *modern* perspective,,, hope that makes sense.


	2. 1926

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i tried to get this one out earlier but i was hit with some writers block with this chapter specifically. so let's hope that i get the next one out sooner.  
> trigger warnings at the end

The two children had grown closer over the course of the past year. It was a year later now, it was the spring of 1926 and it was getting warmer now, the sun was out most days and the birds could be heard chirping in the trees and flowers could be found growing in the wild grass. 

It was lovely and peaceful, and it also meant that children were outside more often now because the small and cramped space of Stephanie and her mother’s apartment was simply too hot to be comfortable, as there was no air conditioning and it wasn’t windy enough to simply let a draft in. It was a very hot spring for some reason. 

And that also meant that Stephanie’s allergies were acting up more often than not, the pollen made her sneeze and the heat made her all itchy and uncomfortable. Her pale skin would go red when that happened. 

Bucky’s birthday had been about a month ago, he had turned nine-years-old then. Stephanie and her mom couldn’t afford to buy him anything but Stephanie had drawn him a picture of her and Bucky holding hands and Bucky had given her a massive hug that lifted her off the ground and had absolutely loved it. It was pinned on the wall of Bucky’s small bedroom, right above his bed when he sleeps. It gave Stephanie a warm fuzzy feeling when she thought about it. 

It was still a couple of months until Stephanie’s own birthday, though. Bucky kept asking her all the time what she wanted, and she responded _“I_ _dunno_ _.”_ every time. And Bucky complains every time. And Stephanie smiles every time. 

Spring had brought them the choice of many activities. Playing kickball in the middle of the street, getting into scraps, and playing baseball with some of the other neighbourhood kids in Bucky’s yard, which also caused The Great Broken Window Incident Of ‘26 --one of the more violent boys hit the ball a little too hard and it shot through Bucky’s kitchen window and smashed it and glass sprayed everywhere. And the boy responsible conveniently fled before Mrs. Barnes could come outside and give them the shout of their lifetime. They kid’s parents did end up paying though, Bucky hasn’t invited that boy back again and they weren’t allowed to play baseball in the yard anymore, especially with kids they didn’t know. 

Stephanie guessed that made sense, but Bucky had been annoyed when he couldn’t play baseball in the yard anymore. 

Things had been good recently. Stephanie hopes they stay that way. 

* 

Stephanie’s birthday was a nice one. It was her eighth one and it was her first one with her new best friend, Bucky. 

It was nice, Stephanie and her mom had never had much money at all, but her mother had always somehow made it work. She’d work extra shifts or pick up off jobs just to save up a couple of extra dollars to buy her child a cheap cake from the bakery and a toy or a tiny sketchpad with a very small number of actual pages, but Stephanie was very grateful every time. 

Usually Stephanie’s ‘birthday party’ was just her and her mother in their small shoebox of an apartment sat at the dining table with Stephanie’s cheap birthday cake and listening to some mellow jazz on the radio as they listened to the sound of fireworks going off in the background. And sometimes they watched the fourth of July day fireworks form their window. Even though Stephanie knew that the fireworks had absolutely nothing to do with her specifically, it still felt like she was special somehow. 

But this birthday was slightly different. 

This time Bucky had and even Mrs. Barnes had gotten Stephanie a gift, Bucky had gotten her a baseball mitt to go with Bucky’s baseball bat so they could play it _properly_ from now on, and maybe not break any windows. 

Apparently, Stephanie was now considered old enough to receive money on her birthday, Mrs. Barnes’s gift had been a birthday card and one whole dollar. Which Stephanie had thought was far too generous, but apparently people liked spending money again ever since the war. And Mrs. Barnes had made a big fuss of it as well, so Stephanie accepted. She couldn’t yet find a use for it but she’ll probably save it up to buy some of those good pencil’s in the art store across the street. 

Bucky was allowed to stay over for a sleepover the day before, since her birthday was on the Sunday. 

They put the couch cushions on the floor in the living room and they made blanket forts. 

“Happy birthday, punk.” Bucky said to her as he hugged her as soon as the clock struck midnight. 

Stephanie was glad to have a friend like Bucky. 

* 

“I had the weirdest dream last night.” Stephanie said suddenly from the cheap wooden floor of her bedroom. Bucky was sitting on her rickety bed with his face in a piece of paper while using a book as a surface. He’s been trying to draw recently, he wasn’t very good –if she’s being honest, but he seemed to be having fun with it. Plus, everyone starts somewhere. 

Stephanie also had a sketchbook; she was trying to replicate her two lonely dolls that sat by the edge of her bed that her mother got for her. They sat there dusted, unused and un-played with, she never did really take to those dolls much, but they were fun to draw sometimes. 

Bucky looks intrigued “Really? What was it about?” the young boy inquires with interest on his tongue. 

She fiddles with her pencil in her small fingers “I dunno...it was just, _really_ weird.” she recalls. It was in fact, very weird. It hadn’t seemed like anything was wrong at first, everything seemed normal and very unassuming. Nothing had seemed off. 

And nothing really was off, everything was as it should be. Everything was the same. 

Except, in the dream Stephanie was wearing shorts and suspenders with a white, but ragged, button-up shirt and her hair was short and cropped and it was styled and smoothed out in the same way that Bucky’s was. Everything was normal expect the fact that in her dream Stephanie was a boy. 

_Weird._

In her dream no-one called her Stephanie, or even Steph. Everyone called her ‘Grant’. And she got to play football with the boys in the grass and no-one lectured her about playing rough and getting dirty and rolling around in the mug. In her dream she didn’t feel strange, or even out of place. She didn’t even have that vague sinking feeling that she would always get whenever someone called her ‘Stephanie’ ‘pretty little girl’ or just ‘ _Girl’_ in general. 

In her dream, no-one shot the name ‘ _Steve’_ at her like it was an insult, and no-one told her what she could and couldn’t do because she wore dresses –she didn’t even have to _wear_ dresses in her dream. 

In her dream she was normal. In her dream everything _felt_ normal. In her dream she wasn’t even a girl, she was just herself. 

Or himself...? She was a boy in her dream... 

And the weirdest part of it was that now Stephanie was imagining her life like how it might be if she was born as that boy named Grant that she was in her dream. And it seems so much better, she can’t exactly think as to why it sounds so appealing to her, it just does. It just feels _right._

Stephanie had heard about past lives before, her mother had talked about them sparingly before. Something about after you die your soul moves onto the next body or something. It sounded a bit silly to Stephanie personally, but it does sound like a nice idea to her. Maybe in her past life she’s going to be a boy and she’s just being prepared for it. In that case, she looks forward to her next life very much. 

“How was it weird?” asked Bucky. 

“Okay, this is gonna sound really freaky --but in my dream, I was a boy.” she mumbled, but not so quiet that she was sure Bucky couldn’t hear her. 

Bucky snorted “That _is_ weird!” the young boy chuckled “You’re not a boy, silly!” 

She huffed “Yeah, I _know._ I’m just sayin’ it was a weird dream, is all.” she says, defensive. 

“What was it about though, like what happened?” 

She lets a low sigh escape her mouth “I dunno, nothin’ happened. Everythin’ was the same but I was just a boy instead, and my name was Grant.” 

Bucky shifts on the bed “Well, I mean it’s probably not _too_ weird, I had a dream that I was a dragon once. It was awesome!” Bucky exclaims, his eyes bright as ever. 

She tries a smile “Sounds awesome.” 

Bucky’s brow furrows “Wait are you worried? Don’t be worried, Steph. It was only a dream, you’re not actually a boy.” he reassures, but it only unsettles Stephanie more. She swallows some saliva in her mouth. 

“Yeah, I’m not worried! I promise! Don’t worry, Buck.” 

“Well okay, if you say so.” said Bucky as he returned his attention back to his drawing. 

_It’s fine._ She says in her head. Because it was just a dream, only a dream. 

She’s not actually a boy. 

It was just a dream. 

She blinks and picks her pencil back up. The doll with the blue dress didn’t end up getting finished. 

* 

Bucky re-entered the bedroom with an annoyed look on his face “So we ain’t got any mac ‘n cheese.” he says, annoyed as he flops onto his bed next to where Stephanie was sitting with her legs crossed and Bucky’s baseball in her hand that she had been (attempting) to juggle as she waited for Bucky to return. 

Bucky adjusts himself into a more comfortable position from where he was lying and made a noise that Stephanie could only assume was discomfort. If it was possible, Bucky had an even _worse_ bed than she did. Having three little sisters and a mom and a dad meant, even if they were making more money than just Stephanie’s mom’s unsteady pay check on her own, it was shared between more people. So, Bucky’s bed was an even more rickety and uncomfortable lump than Stephanie’s was. But the couple of blankets and what appeared to be homemade and hand-stitched pillows made it comfortable, or at least bearable. 

“Ugh.” he groans into the blankets “So Ma’s makin’ us codfish patties instead.” Bucky’s whine was mainly muffled by the blankets that his face was pressed into. 

“What’s wrong with codfish patties?” she asked. 

“Nothin’.” Bucky responded. He sits up and leans against the wall, his legs are long enough now that they nearly hang off the end of the bed from where he’s sitting. Stephanie wishes she could be that tall “But it’s just not mac ‘n cheese. And I wanted mac ‘n cheese. And Ma _promised_ mac ‘n cheese, but we ain’t _got any_ mac ‘n cheese!” Bucky complained loudly before he seemed to remember that Becca was asleep in the next room, and quieted down. 

Stephanie giggled slightly at the boy’s anguish “We get it. You like mac ‘n cheese, Bucky.” she says and it’s an understatement to say the least. Recently, Bucky was kind of obsessed with mac ‘n cheese for whatever reason –Stephanie thought it was okay personally— and it seemed to be the only thing he would eat. Talk about a picky eater. 

“You’re not gonna _die,_ Bucky.” 

“I might as well. I mean codfish patties are okay but I was expecting mac ‘n cheese.” 

“It’s not the end of the world.” she remarks, because it really wasn’t. Sometimes Stephanie couldn’t believe that Bucky said that she was the dramatic one because she would get into fights because she was just sticking up for what was right, but Bucky was losing his marbles over mac ‘n cheese. 

“Yeah, well it feels like it.” Bucky wines. 

“Oh, calm down.” she said. 

“I am _perfectly_ calm thank you very much.” 

“Mhm. So, what’s so wrong with codfish anyway?” Stephanie questioned. 

“Nothing wrong with codfish patties. I just don’t like fish.” 

“Why?” 

“I dunno...feels weird on ma tongue, makes me uncomfortable.” 

Stephanie hummed, she supposed that was fair “Fair enough.” 

“ _Dinner!”_ Mrs. Barnes called from downstairs. 

* 

Stephanie sighed heavily as she put her coat on and followed the other children out to the playground for break time. Bucky didn’t seem to be in school today, he wasn’t in class and he wasn’t waiting at the end of her street so they could walk to school together today, like they did every day. And Bucky didn’t go to the doctor’s or the dentist very often, so chances are that he wouldn’t be coming in later today. Which meant that Stephanie was all alone for today. 

Even though most of the kids in her class have known Stephanie since kindergarten, she doesn’t get on with very many of them, and she is friends with even less. Her and Malvina Jorgenson got along fine, she thinks. Molly is nice enough to not exclude Stephanie in group projects whenever they’re in the same group, she doesn’t actively go out of her way to include Stephanie in games like Houses or Never Have I Ever. And Stephanie is honestly fine with that, she wants nothing to do with the other girls in her class anyway. She just doesn’t connect with them. 

And the boys in her class don’t really like to play with her either. So, Stephanie would most likely be alone at break time today. 

When they were outside, Stephanie goes to the small couple of stone steps around the other side of the building that she and Bucky usually sit at during break time. She doesn’t think she’s technically allowed to be here because the teacher’s give her funny looks, but neither she or Bucky has been told off or it either so she guesses it’s okay. Plus, she probably wouldn’t listen to the teacher’s if they told her to move anyway. 

Stephanie wasn’t allowed to run around as much as the other children at break because of her health, and the other children usually didn’t even bother to ask her if she wanted to be included, and even then, they were usually mean to her. Bucky got asked if he wanted to join in plenty of times though, but he didn’t join in a single time. Stephanie feels both grateful and guilty for that. 

She sits alone in the almost-quiet of the playground. The other children were far enough away for her to not be able to hear them very well. Their playful screeches and laughter seemed like it was miles away, like distant fog to fill the background. 

The boys yelled and laughed at each other loudly while they played basketball on the beaten-up basketball hoop that was ready to fall off the walls of the brick walls of her school building. She can hear them as much as she can’t hear them. And the faded, distant quality of it only serves as a reminder to Stephanie that she’ll never be included. That she’ll always be _Stephanie --_ the one that the girls don’t like and the one that the boys are mean to. It serves to remind her that she’ll never be included. If she was like that boy Grant that she was in her dreams she would have no problem with playing with the other boys and getting to be friends with the other boys, and she wouldn’t have to wear dresses anymore, she could be herself and have no-one have issues with it. 

Maybe that’s why she’s so glad that she has Bucky. Bucky didn’t seem to care what Stephanie said or did or what she wanted to do. Didn’t see any issue with Stephanie not being as girly as the other girls. He was just _there,_ he was _Bucky._

She’s glad she has Bucky, she really is. She just wishes she could be _like_ him sometimes. 

She wishes that she got to be someone like him. Like Grant. 

Bucky’s great, he really is. But he doesn’t do enough to fill the seemingly creator of a whole in Stephanie's’ chest. 

He’s great. But he’s not enough. 

A sinking feeling in Stephanie’s gut tells her that nothing ever will be. That nothing will ever be enough to make her feel whole, to make her feel like herself. 

And maybe that scares her. That she’ll forever have to be doing things that make her uncomfortable and feel just so...disconnected for her whole life. Forever have to feel like she’s constantly living a lie. She’s scared that she’ll never get to be _her._ Who she really is...whoever that is. 

The adults in her life –the ones who aren’t her mother—may tell her that she’s too young to have these feelings, or that ‘they’re completely normal!’ or they ‘happen to everyone’ which she highly doubts. She’s only eight-years-old but she doesn’t feel like she’s normal, she doesn’t feel like she’s supposed to feel this strange. 

A loud screech of a bird brings her out of her thoughts. It’s very big and with grey or white feathers. A seagull she thinks. It would have been nice to draw if the teacher’s allowed her to bring her new sketchbook out, –she had to get a new one, her last one was entirely too full— and nearly all of the teachers seemed to think that art was a waste of a hobby, and that she should be doing...whatever other girls should be doing instead. 

“Stephanie,” a voice suddenly says. Stephanie almost jumps out of her skin; she hadn’t been expecting that anyone would talk to her pretty much at all today. 

She turns around and it’s her substitute teacher, Miss Abercrombie, Mr. Andrews had been taking off time recently because his wife had a baby, so she was stuck with the mean and un-sympathetic Miss Abercrombie who had mean eyes and two harsh wrinkles at the side of her mouth that made her look like an angry cat. 

“What is it?” 

Miss Abercrombie looks wildly offended “Don’t you _‘What is it’_ me, young lady! That is no way to talk to an adult!” she insisted in a level of volume that Stephanie thinks is unnecessary, she knew that she had bad hearing but she doesn’t think that she needs to _yell._

Miss Abercrombie coughs and straightens her back so straight that the young girl wonders if she’s actually just a mannequin in a wig –and she’s pale and stiff like one too. 

“Well. All of the other children have already gone back inside no more than five minutes ago! As you would have as well if you hadn’t sat out hear like some airhead with her head in the clouds! We had almost called your mother because we couldn’t find you, so we did. And I would’ve had to tell her that her child is missing out on her valuable education because she can’t follow the rules!” what rules? 

She turns her back “Come now. Let’s get you back inside before I decide to get you in _more_ trouble.” she spits and walks towards the back entrance to the school that was near the couple of steps she had apparently spent her whole break time lamenting on. 

Had she really spent her whole break time like that? She hopes it’s the last time she does so, she doesn’t want it to become a habit. 

She follows Miss Abercrombie back inside, feeling exhausted. 

“I heard you got a pretty nasty row from Miss Abercrombie this morning.” Stephanie’s mother stated from Stephanie’s bedroom door. Her mom is leaning against the doorframe and she’s wearing the uniform for her second job stacking shelves and cleaning the backroom at the store a couple of streets over. That meant she was going to head off to work soon and one of the neighbours would babysit Stephanie, well more like sit in the living room and do nothing for the whole time. It makes more sense why Stephanie had an early dinner tonight. 

Stephanie makes a noise in the back of her throat at the mention of today’s break time. Walking back into the class late and several minutes after it started while every eye was on her made her want to throw up. It was incredibly embarrassing for her, almost worse than Miss Abercrombie’s stuck-up and nasally voice which Stephanie was sure made everyone want to pull their ears off. 

“...Yeah. ‘M sorry, Mom.” she mumbles. She didn’t think she would have to remember it at all, and she didn’t know that her school had actually called her mom. 

“Oh, honey. I’m not mad.” her mother added. She walked over to the bed where Stephanie was sitting and sat next to her “I’m more worried. Your school called me and said that they couldn’t find you...” she pushed some of Stephanie’s messy hair behind her ear “Did you get panicked? There’s so many kids...” she asks softly. 

The young girl shakes her head “No I didn’t, Mom. I just got distracted is all...” she answers, and it’s not entirely a lie. But it’s not exactly the truth either. 

The worry on her mother’s face lesson's slightly, but it doesn’t entirely vanish. She sighs and then smiles “Well okay, darlin’. But are you okay now?” 

_No._

_“_ Yes.” 

Her mom presses a soft kiss to Stephanie’s forehead “I hope so.” she stands up and straightens out her skirt “Well, you know I have to go now. These bills won’t pay themselves.” once she’s at the door, she turns around to look at Stephanie for a final time “Love you!” 

“I love you too, Mom.” 

Her mom closes the door and Stephanie is left to herself again. 

At break she had hoped that Stephanie staring at nothing and just _thinking_ wouldn’t become a trend. 

She hopes for a lot of things. 

Bucky was back in school the next day. 

It was break time and Stephanie and Bucky were sat on their couple of stairs, Bucky on the lower step and Stephanie on the higher one as they sat at an angle and faced each other. It was way easier to talk this way. 

“Why weren’t you in yesterday? If ya don’t mind me askin’.” Stephanie inquired. 

“Oh my _God,_ Stephanie!” Bucky proclaimed dramatically. She giggled. 

“Shut up, punk.” Bucky shot back “Anyways, before I was interrupted, I was gonna say that I was sick _all_ weekend!” Bucky whined with a huff, his shoulders rising and dropping huge amount like it was the absolute worst thing in the world. Well jokes on Bucky, Stephanie gets sick on weekends all the time. He should try and beat that. 

But Stephanie still does feel bad for him. Getting sick was not only dangerous but it also just _sucked._ It meant staying in bed in day and no fun sweets. And getting sick on weekends especially sucked. 

“ _No!”_ she gasped; Bucky usually never got sick.” 

“I _know!”_ Bucky responded equally as aghast “I had to stay in bed _all day!”_

She smirks _“_ Welcome to my world.” 

“Yeah. I’m so glad I’m not you. I’d probably die, I don’t know how you do it.” Bucky teases. 

Stephanie giggles. 

“But are you alright now? Please don’t infect me with your _germs.”_ Stephanie also teases. There’s a bright smile on both of their faces. So laid back and carefree. Such a stark contrast to yesterday when Stephanie was sat on the step questioning her own reality. She wishes that she could be like this all the time –a normal and happy child who jokes around with her best friend. 

She wishes she could. But again, she wishes for a lot of things. 

“Yeah, I’m totally fine now! Don’t worry, punk.” 

“It’ good that you’re good now, jerk. I don’t need to get sick this week ‘cause ‘a you.” 

“I would never do it on purpose, Steph. I promise!” Bucky giggled. 

“Yeah, you better not. ‘Cause you know that I’d probably _die.”_ Stephanie teases. 

Bucky looked like he was going to say something, but then the bell rang, and break time is over. 

Stephanie wonders what it was that her best friend wanted to ask, but by lunch time, Bucky has apparently forgotten. 

* 

The two children were at Bucky’s house again. They were in his bedroom sat on Bucky’s battered bed next to his window playing noughts and crosses on sheets on paper from Bucky’s homework book. So far Stephanie was winning. 3-2. 

Stephanie hears a shout from outside Bucky’s window. She turns her head to take a look and so does Bucky. 

“That looks like fun.” Bucky remarks with his eyes looking out the window. Outside there was a group of boys playing what looked to be tag, she recognised a couple of the boys vaguely. One had a familiar silhouette and she was sure she had seen that ginger hair before. They’re laughing and are having what looks to be a good time. Bucky’s right, that does look like fun. 

A sigh leaves her mouth as her shoulder sink in a huff in both remembrance and realisation that she’ll never be allowed to join in “But we can’ join in.” 

“How not?” Bucky inquires. 

Stephanie remembers that Bucky is a boy, and that he’s probably used to just being able to join in whenever he wanted, and not tell him to get lost because he’s forced to wear a dress and because his hair is longer, or other small and pointless things “’Cause --Bucky. It’s ‘cause ‘m a girl.” she presses her lips into a line “They’re never gonna let me play.” she looks back towards Bucky and he looks back at her. 

“Oh...” his voice dies on his tongue; he stars at nothing in particular for a moment before he raised his head with a spark in his eyes like he just had a revelation “I got an idea.” he exclaims and there’s practically a lightbulb floating above his head. 

Now very intrigued, she asks “What’s your idea?” although she is wary, usually when they both come up with a ‘brilliant’ idea together usually something ends up getting broken or, someone’s face ends up being smashed in, usually by Stephanie. Intentionally or not. 

Bucky looks excited “We can dress you up like a boy!” he burst. That...wasn’t what she had been expecting “You can put on some of ma old clothes and no-one will ever notice! It’s genius!” the young boy marvelled. 

Stephanie paused for a second, considering. Dress up as a boy. That doesn’t sound so bad, she's never done that before “I mean it’s not _horrible,_ but are you sure it’s gonna work?” 

“Heck yeah I am! It’s gonna work.” Bucky insisted. 

“Alright.” 

Stephanie finishes adjusting her cap on right so her matted blonde too-long hair is hidden underneath Bucky’s navy-blue cap. She lips her finger and smooths out the small bit of hair that was peeking out from underneath. 

“Bucky! You can come back in now!” she calls. Bucky walks back in the bedroom shutting the door behind him. 

She turns around so her whole body is facing him “How do I look?” she hasn’t seen herself in the mirror yet. 

“You look like a boy.” Bucky commented. His eyes as wide as golf balls, he looks funny that way. 

“I do?” 

“Yeah, I mean. If I didn’t know you, I’d say you were a boy. I mean like I can barely tell, wow.” Bucky’s face is nothing short of amazement and he looks like he’s just discovered the most amazing thing in the world. 

“Nice!” she replies. She adjusts one of the suspenders on her shoulder because, even though this was Bucky’s from a couple years ago, it’s still a bit big on Stephanie no matter how tightly she adjusts it. She was just always small. 

She doesn’t know why she’s feeling so excited by the fact that she finally gets to wear clothes that she wants. She just knows that she might finally feel comfortable for a moment. Although it does feel a little bit silly to her, isn't it just a piece of fabric? 

Bucky is smiling now “You should look in the mirror!” Bucky exclaims and he gently tugs on Stephanie’s sleeve and brings her over to the floor-length mirror in the corner of his tiny bedroom. 

Now standing in front of the mirror. Stephanie gazes back at the reflective glass in front of her. She pauses and it’s like the world stopped. Her long hair that she always despised is tucked nicely away in bobby pins and clasps that hides underneath Bucky’s plain navy-blue cap. Only a small bit of her blonde hair is peeking out, and it’s flat and neat and tucked behind her ear, like how Bucky’s was and how most of the boys in her neighbourhood’s was. 

Bucky’s just-a-little-bit-too-big button up shirt, knee-length shorts, suspenders, knee-high socks and shoes complete the look. It makes her look like a boy. Just like the rest of them. Right now, she thinks she could easily blend into a group of boys playing and having fun and no-one would notice or give her any hassle. 

...And she...doesn’t hate it. 

What she sees in the mirror might look like a little girl who raided her big brother’s closest, and while she tried her best, everyone could tell that she didn’t belong. It might look that way to others, but to Stephanie she just sees a boy. She looks like one. She _feels_ like one. 

And she also feels extremely comfortable. Never before had anything felt so _right_ before. It’s not unlike the feeling she got the first time that she had been called ‘Steve’ --even if it was shot at her like an insult, she knows that it was probably supposed to make her offended, and the context kind of does. But there was just something about being called Steve that was appealing to her, and she could never really understand it. And she still can’t, really. 

“Woah.” is all she has to say “I really _do_ look like a boy.” 

“Yeah, you do. It’s kinda freaky, like, yeah.” Bucky remarks. 

“Thanks!” 

“You need a name I think, ‘cause when you ever met a boy named Stephanie?” Bucky points out he’s right, Stephanie notices. She needs a name that isn’t Stephanie. But she doesn’t quite know what...Steph? Grant? Steve? 

“Yeah, uh...but I can’t think of one.” 

“Uh...” Bucky hesitates, and pauses for a moment, thinking “What about...Roger?” ‘Cause your last name...” 

“Yes! It’s perfect!” she bursts. 

Bucky smirks “Alright, _Roger._ Ya ready to have some fun?” 

The two children are approaching the group of boys in the street. Stephanie feels strange wearing a button-up shirt and knee-length shorts instead of a dress, well she’s never done it before. But it feels way better than wearing a dress, she feels comfortable, it feels good, it feels _right._

“You remember your name?” Bucky whispers. 

“Yeah.” she whispers back. 

They approach the group of children and Stephanie tries to walk with her shoulder’s back, it’s how boys walked, apparently. 

“Hey!” Bucky called out to the group of boys, they turn and look at them. One of the boys falls into the pavement face first, ouch. 

“Whaddya want?” the boy in the grey cap with glasses asks as he eyes them both. 

“Can we play?” Bucky asks with that big dorky smile of his. 

“Depends...” the boy says “What are your names?” 

“My name’s Bucky.” Bucky says very quickly “An’ this is my pal...Roger.” he casts a hopefully subtle side-eye glance at Stephanie. 

The boy looks them both up and down, especially Stephanie “That so?” he asks suspiciously. 

Stephanie swallows a lump in her throat. Is she really that obvious “Yeah.” she answers in a deeper voice, he hopes it’s convincing enough. 

The boy doesn’t mention anything “How old’re you?” 

“Eight.” 

The boy’s eyes widen comically like he just heard the most astounding thing ever “No way! But you’re so _tiny!”_ he marvelled. 

“Are we gonna play or nah?” she barks. 

“Alright.” the boy says “You two are good.” 

So, they play. Running around and tagging each other. A couple of boys feel to the ground and got injured, although nothing above a few bumps and scrapes, one boy, the one with ginger hair even feel face first into a garbage can. The other boys laughed at him and Stephanie did for a bit before she felt bad for him and helped him up. She enjoyed a good laugh as much as anyone, she just didn’t like bullies. 

All was going good, Stephanie had been ‘it’ more times than not because of her less-than-stellar running speed –not that it was a surprise at all. 

They were having fun; she had even tagged a couple of times herself. 

All was going fine. Until they boy with the cap tried to tag her and accidentally ended up shoving her rather harshly to the ground. And it wouldn’t have been a huge deal if it hadn’t completely knocked off her cap as well, leaving her shoulder-length blonde hair exposed to what felt like the world. 

She frantically tried to scramble for her hat to put it back on before anyone noticed, but it was too late. Because the boy who shoved her down –she had yet to learn his name— stood above her with a shocked look on his face. 

And all the freedom and fun that she had been feeling then all washed away, and replaced itself with an ugly feeling, one of complete and utter humiliation. 

“Look at that!” the boy shouts, pointing at Stephanie like she was something to be gawked at. 

The other boys come up to them at the other boy’s shout. Bucky looked at her and mouthed ‘OH NO’ “Oh my gosh!” one of them proclaims. 

“What?!” another asks. 

“Roger’s a girl!” the ginger one exclaims “Look!” 

Stephanie tried to stand up but her legs just wouldn’t move in time “Get outta here! Girls can’t play with us!” the boy with the cap says, and her heart sinks a little. 

They had known her as a boy for about an hour now, so why would that change suddenly. 

“Liar! You lied to us!” one of them accuses. 

“N-No I didn’t, I-” she splutters. 

Bucky kneeled down next to her “Hey...let’s just go, ‘s not worth it.” he said. 

Stephanie is truly angered now “Like hell!” she cursed. She stood back up on her feet, although with a lot of pain. 

“Calm down!” Bucky immediately said. 

“No!” she refuted. 

“Get her!” 

She reels her fist back and smacks one of the boys right in the nose. He yelped in pain and stumbled back. 

One of the other three boys' grabs Stephanie by the collar and kicks her “Freak!” 

“Weirdo!” the ginger boy sneers as he knocks Stephanie to the ground. 

More punches are thrown. A few from Stephanie and a few from the boys. 

Eventually, the group of young boys started feeling. 

“And don’t let me see your faces ‘round here again!” 

“Steph! Stephanie are you okay!” Bucky grabbed her wrist in order to hold her back against the group of now feeling boys. They would all have far worse than broken noses if she wasn’t currently restrained in Bucky’s hold. 

“Don’t call me that!” she barked. “Get off me!” she managed to squirm out of Bucky’s grasp. But instead of chasing back after the boys she leaned forward and pressed her hands on her knees as she tried to breathe. 

“But you’re hurt!” Bucky argued, and then he put his hand on Stephanie’s shoulder in what he probably intended to be a reassuring manner. 

“Get. OFF!” she reeled her fist back and hit Bucky square in the jaw. She had never hit Bucky before, ever. But she just feels like she needs to be left alone right now. She just needs to calm down and try and forget everything she was feeling right now. 

“Ow!” Bucky stumbled back a bit and put a hand to his jaw, there was a big red mark there now. Something sinks in Stephanie’s throat and she feels incredibly guilty “You hit me!” 

“You shoulda let go then!” 

“But you hit me!” Bucky insists. He deflates and replaces his look with sudden shock and slight hurt with worry “Are you okay?!” he asks, worried. Bucky always has to be worried about her, doesn’t he? Even when she was _clearly fine._

“I’m f-” she wheezed “fine!” 

“You don’t seem like it.” he said, disagreeing. 

“Leave me alone...” 

“Why? I wanna help you.” 

“But why...?” she puzzles, 

“’Cause you’re ma best pal, why wouldn’t I?” Bucky’s dark eyebrows furrow like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, 

“I dunno....I’m just a weirdo, I guess...” 

“Yeah? So? I know that an’ you’re still ma best pal.” 

Stephanie sighs and then she moves into a hug, her face slightly in Bucky’s neck. He’s nice and warm, but he smells like rubbish right now. 

“’M sorry for hittin’ you.” she apologises, her voice slightly muffles by Bucky’s cheap shirt. 

“S’okay.” Bucky says “I think we should both go home. It’s getting' late.” 

“Mhm.” 

They break out of the hug “I’ll uh, drop your dress off tomorrow--” 

“No.” Stephanie refuted. She doesn’t want to wear that dress again. She doesn’t want to wear _any_ kind of dress ever again. 

“Wha?” 

“Don’ want it dropped off. I, I don’ want it back.” 

“Okay, you can keep the clothes by the way, they don’t fit me anymore.” 

“Okay, thanks.” 

“Bye Steph.” 

“Bye, Buck.” 

Stephanie marches back to her house, she would’ve ran if it didn’t hurt her so badly. Her chest hurt and her legs felt like they might’ve buckled, she was exhausted and her face hurt and she didn’t doubt it was covered in bruises and scrapes, might even be bleeding too. She saw the state of her knees and how badly they were bruised and cut. Her mom is definitely going to be mad. 

She eventually reaches her apartment door; she opens it and closes it very quietly in hope to not alert her mother. Stephanie knows that she’s definitely home by now and she knows that she can’t let her see her like this right now. Covered in dirt and cuts and bruises, and in boys' clothes. 

The door opened to an open area where you could perfectly see the living room and the kitchen, so Stephanie had to be extra quiet, she doesn’t really know what her plan is –maybe she’ll sneak out and then back in? She just needs to clean up first so she doesn’t look suspicious. 

She can see the back of her mother’s head form where she is on the couch in the living room. Stephanie doesn’t know what her mother is doing, she can’t see from where she is. 

Tiptoeing her way to the bathroom, she closes the already open door and pushes it closed, it just so happened to conveniently be the only door in the house that wasn’t creaky. 

Standing on the booster step in front of the sink, she looks in the grimy mirror and takes off her hat. She stares into the mirror and she sees what is supposed to be her reflection staring back at her. Although it doesn’t really look like _her,_ she isn’t entirely sure what she means by that, but the girl in the mirror staring back at her isn’t her. But it also is at the same time. 

Well, she knows that it’s her, physically. But she doesn’t feel like it should be, it’s almost like whenever she looks at herself in the mirror, she never expects whoever the person is that is staring back at her. 

Maybe she’s just ugly, she recognises that possibility, maybe she just isn’t happy with what she sees in the mirror. Maybe that’s it. 

But they’re something in the back of her mind telling her that it’s more than that. 

Her reflection feels like a lie, she doesn’t understand. Although, she probably will when she’s older. That’s what she always gets told ‘ _You’ll understand when you’re older’_ and she hopes that’s true. 

She looks at her shoulder length messy hair that was once kept up and hidden away in a navy-blue cap, and it made her feel safe and secure. And even though she was ‘lying’ and ‘pretending’ to be a boy, she didn’t feel like she was lying or pretending at all. She felt like she was finally being seen, it felt _right_ to her. And it felt way better than wearing dresses. She’s very confused right now, perhaps that’s normal? Plenty of the other kids in her year loved Halloween and a lot of the girls loved dressing up as princesses...so maybe that’s what this was. Just a very strange, weird version of dressing up. 

But it still doesn’t feel right. 

_I look like a boy._ She thinks as she looks in the mirror. She does, her boyish attire and her dirty face doesn't make her look girly at all. Every part of her right now looks boyish, well apart from her hair, which is entirely too long than she’d like it to be. 

There are scissors in the drawer under the sink, she remembers. She opens it on mere curiosity, and sitting right there is a pair of small hair scissors that she would be able to hold comfortably in her small hands. 

She picks them up, she looks at the reflection in the mirror. Her hair is way too long. She kind of looks like a boy right now, and she could look even more like a boy if her hair wasn’t so long... 

She takes a handful of her hair, brings her other hand up to it, and snips. 

A bit of blonde hair falls into the sink. She looks in the mirror and sees that the remaining bit of hair is much shorter than it was before. It barely just touches the tip of her ear. 

Her mother is definitely going to be mad at her, 

But she doesn’t much care in this moment. 

Another piece of hair is snipped. 

And then another. 

And another. 

She keeps snipping, almost at rapid fire speed. 

Once she’s done, she puts down her scissors on the counter of the sink. Her hair is a mess, but it’s short. It’s cut almost down to the scalp in some places, and in others it still has a bit of length. It was very clear that Stephanie had just picked up a pair of scissors and just started cutting it off. She knew that she definitely wasn’t supposed to, but as soon as she picked them up and started snipping, she just couldn’t stop. 

She definitely looks like a boy now, a real one. She looks like she could be any other boy. 

She runs a hand through her hair, her now very short hair. 

Tears starts to appear in the corner of her eyes, she sniffles. She doesn’t know why she’s crying. 

It’s at this moment when she hears the bathroom door slowly creak open. 

“Stephanie Grace Rogers...” an Irish accented voice says from behind her. That could only be one person “What an earth did you do to your hair?” 

Stephanie turns her head and there is her mother, standing there in the doorway with an expression she can’t quite describe. 

“Ain’t Stephanie.” she chokes, her face feels hot as she can feel small tears run down her cheek, she still doesn’t know why she’s crying. 

“-- _Steph._ What on earth did you so to your hair...?” her mother asks again, she sounds worried. As she has a right to be, especially when your child was Stephanie. 

Her breath hitches “I... I dunno, Ma, I just...” 

Her mother moves closer to her now. 

“And why are you in boy’s clothes?! Where did you even get them?!” 

“I-I don’t know!” she blurted “I-I-I I don’t know, Mom. I-I it’s j’st, me an’ B-Bucky wa-wanted to p-play t-tag b-b-but--” she’s hyperventilating now. Hot tears running down her face. 

“Oh, honey.” her mother breathed “Come here.” She leaned forwards and she brought the crying child into her arms “Shhhhh, shhhhh. It’s okay, let it all out darlin’.” she comforted, rubbing Stephanie’s back as she sobbed into her mother’s shirt “Oh, honey. Shhhhh. It’s okay, I’m here. Mommy’s here.” 

She sniffled “I’m so-so-sorry-y-y! I-It’s just me an’ Bu-Bucky were p-playin' –w-wanted to play t-t-tag, but t-they weren’ g-gonna let me pla-play ‘c-cause I was a g-g-g-girl a-an' Bucky l-let me wear h-his stuff, b-but I k-kinda l-liked it a-an' the sc-scissors w-were ri-right t-there.” she sobbed “’M s-sorry!” 

Her other kissed her newly-short hair “Don’t apologise darlin’.” she consoled softly “It’s gonna be okay.” she reassured, hugging Stephanie tightly “I’m here. Okay? I’m here.” “It’s not _too_ much of a mess, we can probably still salvage it –give you a nice and pretty short look, they’re very in style these days.” she suggested. But Stephanie was very against that idea. She didn’t want a girl’s haircut! 

“No!” she refused and broke apart from her mother’s hug “I-I mean, no thank you. I don’t want...I wanted s-short hair. Don’t like long hair.” she sniffled “Don’t like _girls'_ hair.” she clarifies. 

A look of slight confusion makes its way onto her mother’s face "What?” she puzzles “What do you mean?” she asks carefully, as to not upset the young child more. 

“...I don’ know...” she blubbered “I don’t.” 

“Oh, Steph...” her mother pushes some of Stephanie’s now much-shorted hair out of her face, but it’s not long enough to fit behind Stephanie’s ear “What are we going to do with you, mm?” 

“’M sorry.” she mumbles. 

“Stop apologising, you’ve done nothing wrong.” her mom affirmed “You’re... _covered_ in mud. Did you get in a fight?” she asks, concerned. 

Stephanie doesn’t say anything as her eyes fall to the bathroom floor. 

“Oh, honey...well I'll run you a bath, and we can discuss this once you’re feeling better...Okay?” 

“M’kay...” 

Once Stephanie was all clean and dry her mother had sat her down on the living room couch, she obviously had to change out of Bucky’s old clothes. She was now wearing her nightgown, it didn’t match her new hair at all “So, do you wanna tell me what happened, darlin’?” her mother sits next to her and puts a hand on her shoulder. Usually when her mom spoke like that it wasn’t a question. 

She sighed “Mhm. ‘S just m-me and Bucky wanted to p-play tag with some ‘a boys down the street, but, but we knew they weren’t gonna let me play ‘c-cause I was a girl so Bucky lemme wear some ‘a his old clothes s-so I could look like a boy, so they’d let us play...” she said quickly in one long breath, she exhaled and took a moment to catch her breath before continuing “An’ when they found out I was a g-girl...they didn’t like that.” her sighed and her shoulder’s slumped as she recalled what had happened. 

“Wait, did they hurt you?” her mother asks, sharp. 

Again, Stephanie doesn’t say anything, she just stares at her feet which she’s swinging back and forth as they hang far above the floor. 

“Stephanie Grace Rogers, you answer me right now.” said her mother in her no-nonsense tone. 

“...Yeah.” she mumbled. 

“ _Jesus.”_ her mother said under her breath “Why on earth--” 

Stephanie cuts her off “I-I hit first, Mom.” she admits. Although they both know that already, it never needs to be said. 

“I know darlin’. I just wish you wouldn’t.” 

“I know...But I just wanted to join in for once.” admits Stephanie “D-Don’t be mad at Bucky, ‘s not his fault.” 

“I don’t think it’s either of your faults.” her mother sighs. 

“I know...I just wanted to play...” 

“Oh, sweetheart, why do you want to play with those boys so bad? Aren’t they a little mean?” 

“I-I mean they’re plenty mean, but I dunno I just...” Stephanie gulped as she drew into herself sheepishly. “...just wanted to fit in, I guess.” she had just wanted to be included with the boys for once, and look how well that went. 

“I just don’t understand why you had to get in a fight to do that.” 

“’M sorry.” 

“Don’t be...I just wonder why you get into as many fights as you do.” 

“’Cause I have to.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“If I don’t show ‘em how strong I am, then they’re gonna think ‘m weak. An’ ‘m not, so...I have to prove it to ‘em.” 

“Darlin’...I don’t think you’re tryna prove anyone but yourself.” 

“No ‘m not!” 

“Don’t argue with me, young lady.” 

“I just want you to be safe.” 

“I know, Ma.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> -gender dysphoria  
> -physical bullying


	3. 1927

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u everyone for the kudos and the kind comments so far!! i'm glad people actually enjoy this lmao, it means a lot to me :)  
> trigger warnings at the end. (i would recommend checking the specifically for this chapter.

Seasons changed, Christmas and New Year’s had come and gone. The soft brown and red leaves of the humid autumn had been replaced with dead plants, skinny and barren trees and snow. It looked magical in a way, early in the morning when the sun would come out and had barely any sunlight, what little sunlight was out, would shine down on the soft white snow and would bring out all the pretty snowflakes and gave out a beautiful, sparkling and glistening glow. 

It always made for a pretty picture; Stephanie had eventually saved up enough money for those nice pencils from the store from across the street. Her Christmas money had contributed greatly to that. 

As beautiful as winter could be, and as fun as making snow angles and throwing snowballs at Bucky could be, winter also brought an absolute nightmare down on the Rogers household. Stephanie was already sick enough already; she could barely even breathe right, –and her asthma only got worse by the years— her legs just couldn’t carry her for very long, and if it was two warm, she would get all itchy and then she’d pass out. She had all of that and more already. But winter just made it about a thousand times worse. 

The low temperatures made her even weaker than she already was and there didn’t go a single week without some type of cold. She had even had the flu once, and she could have seriously been a goner if her mother wasn’t the most amazing nurse in the world. 

She would love to play in the snow more, but she had to stay inside by the fireplace under a million blankets and snuggled up against a million pillows. 

Stephanie still had about another week or two until she was to return to school, and honestly, she kind of wishes that it would be sooner, so she could escape her blanket fort for once. 

Her hair had also remained short, her mother had taken her to the hairdressers to clean it up and even it out, so it was even shorter than before. A lot of it was close to her scalp, but it was long enough in the front to create some sort of fringe that she could stick down with product and stick it to the side, in the same way that all the other boys had. She loved it. 

Her mother still didn’t get it, that moment was very rarely discussed, not because her mother thought of it as some sort of taboo, but more because of Stephanie's feelings on the matter, she just didn’t want to talk about it, or even _think_ about it. For fear that she would break down in tears if she did. 

On a side note, she had to visit the opticians and they said that she needed glasses now. So now she was sat on her small couch near the fire place, wrapped under a million blankets and in those stupid looking, circular framed things. She knew she needed them to see, but she was still not a fan of them, she looked like schmuck in her opinion. 

It was very warm and cosy underneath the blankets, she was about to doze off before a familiar voice bolted her awake. 

“Hey, punk!” greeted Bucky as he came into view. That was odd, she didn’t remember Bucky being over at her house. 

“Bucky?” she said in a quiet and groggy voice “What’re ya doin’ here?” she rubbed her eyes and yawned. It was still bright outside, as she could see from the window, although the snow had ceased. 

Bucky’s smile was as bright as ever, although it did carry a bit of worry “Your ma said I could come over, ‘n ma da practically forced me out ‘cause ma sisters are casuin’ so much noise.” Bucky said, his arms were behind his back, clearly holding something. Stephanie wonders what it is. 

“How are you?” Bucky asks. 

Stephanie groans a little, her head hurts “’M fine.” 

Bucky’s face doesn’t agree with that “No you ain’t.” he countered in a matter-of-fact way. 

She scoffs “No, ‘m perf’ctly f’ne, Buck. Leave me be.” she mumbles, her nose feels itchy and cold. 

“Well your ma’s just at the store gettin' you your medicine, an’ she didn’t want you here by yourself, so it’s Bucky to the rescue!” he proclaims. 

She giggles a little “What do you got?” she asked in reference to the boy’s odd stance. 

Bucky didn’t answer, he eyed the small free spot on the tiny couch next to her “Scoot.” he said he lifted up the blankets and got under them with Stephanie. He snuggled into her and she felt a tremendous amount of warmth at that moment. 

Bucky lays down much lower so he could put his head on the side of Stephanie’s shoulder as he pulled the blanket back over the both of them. 

Stephanie now suddenly felt very warm, both on the outside and on the inside. Bucky was like a furnace and he was just always warm, like Stephanie’s own personal heat source whenever they would hug. 

“Mm.” she mumbled as she leaned into the boy. 

“You nice ‘n warm?” Bucky mumbled into her shoulder. 

“Mhm.” she answered. 

It was kind of an awkward position, given that Bucky is much bigger than her and he had hit a growth spirt recently, but it was still comfortable and warm, much like Bucky himself was. 

“I got you somethin’.” Bucky says suddenly and he shifts a little bit to move one of his arms out of the blanket “Close your eyes!” he warned before Stephanie could see what he was holding. She closed her eyes accordingly. 

“Now hold out your hands!” 

She moved one hand out of the blanket. She then felt something soft and fluffy appear in her hands. 

“Open your eyes!” she opens her eyes, and in her hands sits a small and soft teddy bear. With patchy fur and scuff marks on the eyes. She loves it instantly. 

“D’you like it?” Bucky asks, his eyes are all big and twinkling with wonder and anticipation. 

She brings the small bear to her neck and she hugs it “I love it! Thank you, Bucky.” 

Bucky’s smile is huge “Yay! I wasn’t sure if you were gonna like it ‘cause you’re pretty...” Bucky makes some sort of punching motion with his hand “y’know, like. Punchy.” 

Stephanie giggles a little, but then winces after she feels a sharp pain shoot through her chest “Gee, thanks Buck.” 

Bucky snorts “Are you gonna name it?” he asks. 

Stephanie stares at the bear and it’s patchy fur, pondering. She gives it some thought but then after a moment she has her answer “I got it!” she announces. 

Bucky looks very intrigued “So what is it.” 

She looks at Bucky and smiles, she has just the perfect name “His name is Bucky Bear.” 

Her best friend’s face just lights up “You named him after me!” he beams. 

She smirks “Well there’s gotta be _one_ thing you’re good for.” she teases. 

Bucky bopped her on the nose “Well who’s the jerk now, huh?” he replied snarkly. 

She giggled and then she puts her hands back under the number of blankets, taking Bucky Bear along with her, squeezing it tightly and closely to her chest. 

“Now shush, I was sleeping.” she said as she closed her eyes. 

Bucky leans back into her, and wow he really is like a furnace, Stephanie notices. He’s just so _warm._ And it certainly doesn’t hurt when he likes to cuddle up with her when she’s sick to make her feel better, even if he pretends, he doesn’t otherwise. 

If Bucky slowly wraps his arms around her torso just before she fades off to sleep, well neither of them say anything. 

Something warm and damp presses on Stephanie’s forehead as her eyes flutter open as she wakes up, she closes them again after she winces from the bright light of the cool winter sun shining through the window. 

“Mm.” she moans, feeling the painful pressure on her temples. Ouch, that’ll probably form a migraine soon. 

“You’re up?” a voice that Stephanie recognises to be her mother’s asks. 

She grunted “Mhm. Yeah.” she answered. 

“Good.” her mother replied “It’s the next day, darlin’. Winifred came to get James a little before tea time.” Stephanie opened her eyes fully this time and she saw her mother pick up a glass of water from the bedside table. She holds it up to the young child’s mouth “Drink up.” she said. Stephanie shifted to sit up and she took the glass in both of her hands and took small sips “There you go, only take small sip.” 

She put the glass down back on the bedside table “Wha’ happened?” she asked, her voice groggy. 

“Nothin’ much, you just feel asleep on the couch –eventually.” Her mother presses her hand on Stephanie’s forehead “You’re burning up.” her mother remarks. 

Stephanie squints, that can’t be right, she feels cold if anything “But I feel cold, though.” she mumbles. 

“How cold?” her brows furrow in concern, if they weren’t already. 

“Mm.” she thinks about it for a moment “Like um, a four out of ten. Slightly chilly.” she replies and she pulls the blanket closer up to her chin. 

Her mother takes a blanket that was hanging off the back of the chair that she was sitting on, because Stephanie’s room was like her own personal hospital room sometimes. 

She puts it over the thin and cheap cover that Stephanie had for her bed and she brings it up to Stephanie’s chin. Stephanie sinks further down onto the bed so she’s lying back down in a more comfortable position, but still sitting up slightly. 

The blanket was that much better than Stephanie’s questionably-clean, patchy and stitched up and repaired cheap quilt that they just couldn’t afford to replace. The blanket had been hand-stitched by Stephanie’s mother when she was just a baby apparently, and despite the temperature it always felt very warm, and like it could keep the cold out no matter what. 

“Not much we can do about that I’m afraid...It _is_ winter so we just kind of have to deal with it. Now you just lie here and rest.” her mother instructed. 

“Noooo!” Stephanie wined “I’ve been resting all day! I wanna do stuff!” she complained. 

Her mother sighed “Yes, I know darlin’. But I can’t havin’ you catching a cold when you’re already sick, so you have to stay in bed.” she maintained with a stern expression, and Stephanie knew she wasn’t going to be able to argue her way out of this one. But it did still annoy her that she couldn’t go out and build snowmen like the other children. Well just Bucky, more realistically. She hadn’t really played with other children that weren’t him since the ‘incident’ a while ago. It still stung to think about. 

She groaned “But that’s not fair!” she complained. 

Her mother began tucking the sheets into the bed, so Stephanie has to stay in bed for even longer. Great. 

“I know, but you’re so weak already right now, so we can’t risk.” her mom attempted to tuck Stephanie’s short hair behind her ear, but it wasn’t long enough to do so. So, she just resorted to stroking it tenderly. 

Stephanie was now offended, she wasn’t _weak_ “’M not weak!” she protested. 

Her mom smiled at her “Of course you’re not, you’re the strongest person I've ever met.” she said as she pressed a kiss to Stephanie’s forehead. 

She then stood up “I’m going to do grown-up things now. Please try to get some rest.” 

“But I've been resting all day!” 

Her mother put her hands on her lips and gave her the classic Mom Stare. 

Stephanie backtracked, she nodded, but only a little as to not set off her migraine “Mhm.” she sighed “I will.” she said reluctantly, she was itching to just be out and about and not lying down in bed doing nothing. 

“Good.” she dropped her hands and smiled. 

She turned her back to Stephanie and went for the door “I love you darlin’.” she said before she closed the door. 

“Love you two, Mom.” 

* 

Months later, when both of the children’s 9th and 10th birthdays had passed, and an even longer time since Stephanie had returned to school with her new haircut for the first time. No-one payed much mind to it, or even really seemed to care. But the ones that did cared a lot. The teachers had scoffed at her and the girls in her class had begun whispering about her, well even more than usual. She had gotten even worse whispers and looks when she had worn Bucky’s old clothes that he gifted her for the first time. It had been a complete accident, she didn’t have any dresses dry for her to wear to school so he had to resort to wearing Bucky’s old clothes. 

She didn’t wear a dress again. 

Bucky gave her more clothes that he had outgrown over time, under the guise of _“the don’t fit me anymore and we don’t to waste them!”_ his mom had especially appreciated that statement and gave him a big pat on the back for being so grown up. 

It was mutually beneficial, as it seemed. 

* 

“Ma?” Stephanie calls from where she’s eating soup. A question had come to her mind recently. Well, she had been wondering about it for a while, it had vaguely been in the back of her mind for the longest she could remember. But she hadn’t really thought about it much until recently, ever since that day where she had worn her best friends' clothes and tried to masquerade herself as a boy, ever since then she had been wondering what her name would be if it wasn’t ‘Stephanie’ although she doesn’t really claim it as hers much. 

Her mum’s head peaked up from where she was on the armchair, where she was reading the newspaper, her mother didn’t get time off much. Or even when she did, she was often tired or overworked from the amount of work she did just to help keep them both afloat, Stephanie wished she could help out but she was told that she was too young, but that didn’t mean she still didn’t feel bad that her mom was the one doing all the work. 

“Yeah?” her mom replied, looking up from over the newspaper and lowering it slightly. 

She takes a deep breath with her eyes still glued to her food “Um,” she begins “I’m just wondering...but what were you gonna call me if I was a boy. 

Stephanie dares to spare a glance at her mother and she sees that she’s wearing a vaguely perplexed facial expression, as though Stephanie had asked something completely absurd “Why do you ask?” she asks. 

Stephanie shrugs “I dunno, just curious I guess.” she mumbles. 

She looks back to her miserable soup, out of the corner of her eye he might’ve caught a glimpse of her mother’s eyes briefly go to Stephanie’s short boyish messy hairstyle “Well,” she began, Stephanie looked back over to her “we never really thought about it, wee –your father and I—always knew that we were going to have a girl.” 

_Oh._ Stephanie kicked her small legs back and forth from where they hung off the end of the chair. 

“But...” she continued “I suppose if we woulda had a boy instead, I would name him Steven. Or perhaps Joe, after your father.” Stephanie would remember that information. 

That sounds nice. Stephanie thinks. She wouldn’t mind being called Steven. 

Her mother picked up the newspaper again and a particular headline caught Stephanie’s eye. She squinted through the glass of glasses and written in all capital letters and in bold, read _‘QUEERS IN BROOKLYN HEIGHTS, TWO YOUNG MEN CHARGED WITH PERVERSION’._

_Queer?_ Stephanie echoes, what on earth is that? She had never heard of such a word before. 

It’s probably a bad thing, given the nature of the headline. But she can’t help her curiosity “Ma, what’s a queer?” she asked with pure innocent childish wonder. 

Her mother looks to her daughter immediately. She’s making a face that Stephanie’s never seen before, she can’t quite read it. But the ways her eyebrows are tensed but her eyes are wider suggesting that Stephanie’s said something completely out of line, oops “What?” her mother’s tone is very carefully controlled. 

She gulps slightly, she hopes she doesn’t get in trouble for this “Say’s on the paper, what is it?” she gestures towards it with her right hand which is wielding her cheap spoon. 

Her mother folds the paper and puts it down on the space next to her on the sofa where Stephanie can no longer see it “That’s nothing you need to worry about.” she cautions. Which is strange, usually her mother is very blunt about things. 

Stephanie knows it would probably be appreciating if she stopped asking, but when has that stopped her “But what is it? ‘N what’s per...perver...” she stumbles over the last word; she had never heard any of these terms before. 

“Stephanie. Drop it.” her mother’s tone is sharp, almost commanding. 

She backtracks and puts her spoon back in her soup “Sorry...I was just curious.” she mumbles, looking down at her knees. 

Her mom stands up and moves to sit on the squeaky dining chair opposite Stephanie “I don’t want to hear you say that word again.” her tone is softer this time, but it hasn’t lost its edge and commanding-mom tone. 

She brings her gaze up from her lap and settles it on her mother’s sky-blue eyes, eyes identical to hers “Why? Is it bad?” she wonders. 

A long sigh leaves her mother’s mouth and her expression now looks like the word ‘scrambled’, like she had no idea what to say or how to say it “...It doesn’t matter what I think. But you can’t let people hear you say that word.” she expresses with caution. Stephanie already knew that she was supposed to watch what she says, she’s already been sent down to the office at school for saying the f-word on one-too-many occasions. And, well it’s not her fault if everyone else at school is saying it! ...Well, maybe not _everyone,_ but she still felt like she was being unfairly punished. Maybe the teachers were just finally getting suck of her. 

She hums “Oh...okay. But what’s it mean?” she questions, because she still hasn’t been given a clear answer. 

Her mother gives her the Mom Stare “What did I just say?” 

Stephanie looks back down to her now room temperature soup “Sorry.” she apologises sheepishly. 

Her mother reaches over the table and cleans a bit if gravy off Stephanie’s check with her thumb “You’re not in trouble sweetheart. There’s just certain things that you’re too young to know about.” 

“’M, okay.” 

“Now finish your dinner.” her mom then ruffles her short hair. 

“Okay.” 

But Stephanie wasn't satisfied, now that she couldn’t stop thinking about it, she _will_ get answers. 

The next day, Stephanie waits until her mother leaves the house for work until she sets out of the house, dressed in Bucky’s old clothes that she had been given ages ago. They fit her better now, but still lung off of her body loosely. They were pretty worn down now and were losing what little quality they had. But it’s all she felt comfortable in nowadays. Her mother hadn’t told her off for wearing them either, so she didn’t think there was any reason why she shouldn’t. 

She would like some newer boy clothes though, as nice as her checkered pastel pink dresses were –because that was the nicest colour they could afford—they just didn’t feel right on her. 

Now when Stephanie left the house with her short hair, boy clothes and glasses. She looked like a boy, a rather small and sickly one, but still a boy. 

Yesterday when she had asked her mother what those two particular words meant she had shrugged it off, and told her to drop the subject. And that she was too young to worry about that right now, whatever that was. But she felt like nine-year-old was _definitely_ plenty grown-up already, thank you very much. 

But her thirst for answers still remained, she knows that she’s always been stubborn, which is probably why she doesn’t even question it when she doesn’t drop it like her mother told her to. 

She knew where she could get honest answers if he had them, Bucky. Bucky would never lie to her; she isn’t even entirely sure if Bucky even knows what those words mean. But she’s just so damn _curious_ that she can’t just not think about it, especially now that her mother told her to forget about it. For whatever reason, things were just way more exciting when she knew she’d been ticking someone off while doing them. 

She had to fish the then discarded newspaper out of the trash to retrieve it. She stared at the word ‘QUEER’ in bold print on the headline, she weirdly thinks that word holds some significance somehow. 

Climbing up the ladder that Bucky had set up to head his window, Stephanie immediately felt immensely exhausted, she had only recovered from her most recent stomach ulcer a couple of weeks ago, plus the doctor was saying that her vitamin levels were getting lower for whatever reason. Plus, it was very, very warm today and the August heat made her skin itchy and red and made her nauseous. 

Bucky’s family had recently managed to save up for an actual house about a year ago. Apparently Mr. Barnes had gotten a big load of funding for the funeral home he owned recently, so they were able to upgrade from a tiny two-bedroom apartment for the six of them to a two-story house. The house was still very small, with still only three bedrooms and the kitchen and the living room were fused together, and it certainly hadn’t been updated in years. But it was an improvement, and Bucky certainly seemed happy about having a room all to himself now. 

When Stephanie finally reached the top of the ladder that they had both put there for sneaking in and out purposes. She peered in the grimy yellowish window she saw her best friend sat on his bed with some pieces of paper in his hand that he was staring at, maybe he was reading? But Stephanie knew he hated that. 

She chapped on the window with one hand. 

She saw Bucky pipe up at the noise and then make his way to the window, he then opened it and his smile was as bright as ever when he saw his best friend. 

“Hey Buck.” she greeted with an equally large smile. She just couldn’t help but beam whenever she saw those bright blue eyes and those suppressed brown almost-curls that Bucky desperately tried to stick down with product, but it just made them more apparent. And he would get all riled up when Stephanie would purposely mess them up because she just loved the look on his face when she did. 

“Heya punk.” Bucky’s slightly crooked teeth seem to be more straightened out now that she’s looking, Bucky had been complaining all month about them because he was _“absolutely_ not _going to the dentist. Ever!”_ so he must be relieved about that _“_ What’re you doin’ here?” he leans his forearms on the windowsill. 

“I gotta ask you somethin’.” she said. 

Bucky looks intrigued “Okay.” 

“Help me up!” she reaches up so Bucky can pull her in, like they always do. 

He grabbed Stephanie’s arms and hauled her in. It would probably be impossible, or just extremely difficult, for a mere ten-year-old like Bucky to so easily pick up another kid almost the same age as him, it would’ve been difficult if Stephanie wasn’t just as small and thin as she was. 

When she was inside, she dusted herself up. Bucky didn’t even seemingly pay mind to Stephanie’s...odd attire, that was one of the many things she loved about him “So whaddya wanna ask?” Bucky sat himself down on the floor with his back to his beaten-up bed, Stephanie sat opposite him. 

She now suddenly felt a bit awkward, but only slightly “Um...Well, I-It’s kinda weird, um. I don’t know if I’m actually supposed to talk about it...Ma says I shouldn’t, but I gotta know...” she trailed off. 

“Gotta know what?” Bucky quizzed. 

“Um...” she mumbled “Do you know what um,” she scooted over to him until she’s next to him, she leans in and whispers “ _queer_ means?” and immediately after saying it she feels like she’s said a naughty word. 

Bucky turns around so he’s facing her and his eyes are as wide as golf balls, as if he is horrified “Where’d you hear that word?” Bucky said very quickly, Stephanie pulls out the now crumpled newspaper page from her back pocket. 

She hands it over to her best friend; Bucky takes it and his eyes skim over it as he stares at it “Oh.” he finally says “Um, It’s bad.” 

Stephanie’s brow furrows “How’s it bad? What’s it even _mean_ _?”_

Bucky gulps, his eyes are now focused Stephanie again. He’s gripping the paper awful tightly “It’s a real bad thing, Steph. I heard my da talkin’ about it, ‘n he says that they’re real horrible.” Bucky takes a breath “Says their perverts, an’ _that_ kinda sick, like...mentally. Not like retarded but like, psy-psychopaths, ‘n murderers. That kinda sort.” Bucky now seems very disturbed; he’s shaking just ever so slightly. He’s very visibly tense. 

“Oh...” she says carefully “So, they’re, like, dangerous?” 

“Yeah.” Bucky says quickly “My da says to stay away from ‘em, and that I oughtta be careful. ‘Cause you never know if one’s around, and that I'll be snatched up by one of ‘em if I'm not careful.” at this point Bucky just looks miserable. 

“Well that’s just horrible! I would _never_ let anyone hurt you!” she says on instinct. Because it’s true, she’d _never_ let anyone hurt Bucky. _Never_

Bucky tries a smile but it just comes off as strained “I know you wouldn’t! That’s why you’re ma best pal!” he paused. “What brought this on anyway?” 

Stephanie shrugged carefully “My ma was readin’ this the other day and she wouldn’t tell me what it meant.” 

Bucky nodded and then shrugged, but it was so small it almost wasn’t noticeable “Makes sense, it’s not exactly the thing you go around talkin’ about.” 

“It’s not?” 

“Are you kiddin’? Course it’s not!” 

Stephanie shrugs again “But like...what are they, like. What did they do?” she asks sheepishly. 

“They’re...they’re like women, but they’re men.” Bucky replies. 

There’s a tension in the air like there never was between them. It was always sunshine and lollipops and happiness and goofing around between them. And yeah there was squabbles and bickering. But It was never a tense and awkward atmosphere between them like there is now. It felt so foreign, so uncharacteristically unlike them. 

“Huh?” is all she has to say 

“I mean. They’re guys but they also like guys, like,” Bucky gulps “like a girl would.” 

“Oh.” she pauses “And that’s bad?” 

“A-Are you kiddin’? Y-Yeah it is.” Bucky stammers nervously, she’s never really seen Bucky like this before. 

“Why though?” she asks. 

“I don’t know okay! ‘S just the ways it is. I-It’s just wrong, Steph.” Stephanie is ever so slightly taken aback at Bucky’s sudden outburst; she feels guilty for bringing it up now if it really made Bucky that uncomfortable. She can tell that Bucky clearly wants the conversation to be over. 

“Oh...I didn’t know that.” she mumbles. 

“F-Fair enough, I mean. It’s not really talked about.” 

“Does it go both ways?” 

“Whaddya mean?” 

“I-I mean like, can a girl...be like that. Like...can a girl like a girl...like _that?_ ” 

_“_ Yeah, ‘m pretty sure, yeah.” 

Stephanie feels an awful pit form inside her. It’s ugly and it frightens her “Oh.” she breathes. 

Bucky’s mouth opens like he wants to say something, but it’s at that moment when Bucky’s mom, Mrs. Barnes walks in “Hey, Jamie--” she greets as she opens the door to Bucky’s bedroom, she looks taken aback for a moment when her eyes land on Stephanie, and her especially...unique attire. Well it’s definitely not the first time that Stephanie had been seen in clothes that adults argue that she shouldn’t be wearing, but it was still a sight for most people “Hello Stephanie.” she says. 

Bucky quickly slides the newspaper under his bed before Mrs. Barnes can see it. 

“Hi, Mrs. Barnes.” Stephanie does an awkward wave, the tense air in the room went seemingly unnoticed by Mrs. Barnes, but it hadn't vanished. Bucky is adverting both of the gazes. 

Mrs. Barnes smile is large and bright, like it usually was “Oh for goodness sake! How many times have I told you to call me Winnie?” she laughed. 

“Ma, can you just--” Bucky was cut off. 

“Don’t _Ma_ me, since when was that any way to speak to your mother?” she scolded, but not harshly, she then chuckled cheerfully “Anyway. Have you finished your practice words, James?” Mrs. Barnes said as she walked to the bed and picked up one of the paper sheets that Bucky was pouring over later. 

Stephanie now remembers that the newspaper is still under Bucky’s bed. 

Stephanie now felt unwelcome “I think I oughtta go--” her body strains as she stands up. 

Mrs. Barnes looks perplexed “Oh nonsense! Stay for dinner!” she encourages, and it’s tempting. Her home cooked meals are something else. 

But she refuses “N-No it’s alright, I’ll leave. I’ll use the front door.” she stammers awkwardly. 

Bucky spares an almost remorseful glance at Stephanie when she goes to the door. 

“Be careful then.” Mrs. Barnes said. 

She closes the door as she leaves. Bucky doesn’t say bye to her. 

Stephanie walks down the creaky stairs rather quickly; she feels awfully guilty and she feels like she needs to hit something. 

She gets to the very bottom of the stairs, and she was about to leave through the door that is a mere few feet away from her, but before she can do so she smacks into something hard. Or someone. 

Stepping back a couple of feet, she cranes her neck up greatly to look at whoever’s stomach she just ran into, so she can apologise and quickly leave. 

Looking up, she is faced with the mean scowl that is Mr. Barnes, great. 

“Where’re you goin’, girl?” he slurred, and it was hard to even make out what he was saying. 

Her need to leave is only amplified now, her heart is beating faster than it usually was. For some reason she always got nervous like this whenever Mr. Barnes was around. They had never interacted much. But whenever they did it was always curt and short and had an uncomfortable energy surrounding them. They had never argued or anything, Stephanie simply just didn’t really get on with this man. And he just never seemed to get on with her, either. He was never outright mean; he just had a certain type of attitude about him. He was bitter and never seemed to like anything much. 

And he always smelled, too. 

His seemingly permanently hard eyes skimmed over her short hair and Bucky’s old clothes, he’d seen her short her before, but never in boy’s clothes before. 

“I-I was jus’ leavin’, sir.” she squeaked. 

“Good.” he grunted and walked past her, presumably to the living room where he would proceed to sit on the armchair and bark remarks at anyone who dared to interrupt him, or that’s what Buck says anyway. 

_Good?_ That echoes in her mind, how is it good? 

She opens the front door. 

Now Stephanie doesn’t have amazing hearing, her left ear is infamously bad. But as she was about to leave, she hears “Fuckin’ mick.” mumbled under Mr. Barnes breath. 

She doesn’t know what he means by that, she doesn’t have time to think about it, she just needs to hit something and sulk. 

Stephanie shuts the door and leaves. 

The next day Stephanie was sat in her room was the window wide open, it was absolutely scorching and she felt all itchy and sweaty and gross from the heat. It really shouldn’t be this hot in August, they were supposed to get all the heat last month but apparently not. So, Stephanie was left feeling like she was actually melting. 

She wasn’t doing anything in particular, her mother was at work _again_ and she was apparently considered old enough to not need a constant babysitter, so no-one was telling her what to do. And she didn’t have any new ideas for a drawing so she was just kind of sitting on the uncomfortable floor of her bedroom with a now warm glass of water –ew. 

All of a sudden, she hears a familiar voice by the window “Psst!” she hears. It’s Bucky’s voice, what is he doing here? 

She looks over to the wide-open window and sees her best friend crouching on fire escape. His face is wearing and odd expression. Stephanie now remembers how awkward she must’ve left things when she left. 

Bucky looks kind of funny right now; he’s perched like a gargoyle in a way that possibly can’t be comfortable to stay in for more than a minute. 

“Hi...” Bucky says sheepishly, he makes that dumb smile that he makes when he’s trying to appear confident, but he really isn’t feeling confident in the moment. It worked on everyone except Stephanie, not when she could read him like a book. 

“Hi.” Stephanie greets back just as awkwardly “You can come in.” 

Bucky awkwardly climbs in and stumbles a bit. 

“Be careful there.” Stephanie warns. 

Bucky makes his way over to her and sits opposite her. He presses his lips into a line. 

“Um,” he begins. He shuffles awkwardly where he’s sitting and he fiddles with the frayed hem at the end of his trousers “so um, about yesterday.” he mumbles while he looks at the floor “I’m sorry.” he apologises. 

Stephanie is confused by this “Why?” she questions. 

Bucky shrugs “I-I dunno.” he stammers “Figured I was just being rude, I guess.” 

Where on earth did Bucky et that idea from? Sure, Bucky was acting a bit unusual, but definitely not rude. 

“Huh? You weren’t bein’ rude.” she states. 

Bucky starts fiddling with the ends of his long sleeves, odd because it was boiling outside “Okay. Jus’ my dad, um. Found the paper an’ he asked what and I had to tell ‘im.” Bucky admits. 

“Oh.” she says, she hopes they’re not in trouble “Wait are we in trouble?” she frets. 

“No.” Bucky confirmed “We-We ain’t in trouble or anythin’. Jus’ my dad says not to um, talk about that stuff anymore.” Bucky looks back at Stephanie now, Stephanie thinks she might be missing something here, because something feels off “...not in his house...” he says under his breath. 

“Okay,” she nods “so why are you apologising?” 

Bucky’s jaw is tense “Look, I already said, so just drop it please.” he snaps “Sorry.” he says very quickly after. 

Stephanie is now a bit worried. She shuffles a bit closer to her best friend “Are you alright, Bucky?” she asks “You sick?” her eyes examine his face to look for any traces of paleness. She finds none. 

Bucky shakes his head and smiles “Nah. ‘M fine, Steph!” Bucky sounds a bit too cheerful for it to be natural. 

“You sure?” 

“Mhm! What makes you think I'm sick?” 

She shrugs “I dunno. You just seem kinda odd right now, I guess.” 

Bucky snorts “You can’t talk to me about bein’ odd, pal.” he gestures generally to her whole self, with her short hair and shirt and shorts instead of a dress like she used to wear. 

“C’mon, that’s not fair.” she says “But are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yeah, ‘m perfectly fine. Just feel a little weird today.” 

“Okay. If you say so.” 

* 

“Um,” Stephanie squints her eyes to see clearer. 

“What?” Bucky asks with his brow furrowed. He had just come over to Stephanie’s apartment for the day. And he was standing by the door as he had just entered the apartment, and it was hard from where Stephanie was sitting on the floor of the living room to see him properly, but there’s something wrong with his face. 

Bucky skip over to her and plops himself on a pillow on the floor across from Stephanie. 

It’s now that she sees that he has a massive black eye on the right side of his face. 

“Oh my gosh!” she yelps. 

“What?!” Bucky responds, looking slightly worried. 

“Your face, Bucky! What happened to your face?!” she pointed at the big ugly smudge of yellow and purple, it’s recent then. And he didn’t have one yesterday. What on earth happened? 

Bucky jumps slightly “O-Oh, nothin’! ‘M fine!” he insists. 

But Stephanie knows Bucky, and she knows when he’s lying. 

“No, you ain’t, Buck! You got a massive shiner!” 

“It’s nothin’!” Bucky defends “’S only a bruise.” Bucky shrugs it off like it’s nothing. But it’s not nothing! Can’t he see he’s been hurt! 

“No, it is not!” she yells “How’d you get it anyway?” she coaxes, deeply concerned. 

Bucky mumbles something inaudible. 

Maybe it’s just Stephanie’s bad ear, but she has no clue what Bucky just said. She shuffles closer to him a little “Huh? Didn’ hear you, sorry.” 

Bucky looks to the floor “Didn’t say nothin’. ‘S fine. Anyway--” Bucky tries to shrug it off again, but Stephanie cuts him off. 

“Forget that!” she attested “I wanna know what happened.” she said softly, or as soft as she could be. 

Bucky seems to shrink as he retracts into himself and pulls his knees to his chest and sits his arms tightly around him. His eyes are slightly watery. Stephanie was immediately very worried. She had never seen her best friend properly cry before, only brief glimpses of tears when he’d accidentally gotten himself mixed up in Stephanie’s fights and got a particularly nasty hit which was originally meant for Stephanie. Or the very rare times when she arrived at the end of the street for school a bit earlier and saw Bucky wipe away what were probably tears looking back. She had asked but he said it was nothing, and she stupidly believed him. 

Now she just wants to know what the hell is going on with her best friend. 

“Bucky...” Stephanie scoots over to directly in front of him. She tries to put her hand on his knee in reassurance but he flinches as soon as she does so. 

“Bucky...what the heck’s goin’ on?” 

Bucky doesn’t answer her as he sniffles and shrinks even more in on himself, if that’s possible. His head falls onto his knees. 

Stephanie feels her heart shatter, this was nothing like the smiley and smartass Bucky like she was used to “Bucky, _please._ Please just tell me pal...I wanna know what’s goin’ on.” 

He doesn’t answer yet again “...Bucky please. Did someone...do that to you...?” she tries carefully. 

Bucky actually starts to sob now. 

“Oh my god...” she immediately advances and leans forward and wraps her arms around Bucky’s neck. 

Bucky instantly bursts into tears at the sudden contact and he wraps his own arms around her and squeezes her tight. His clammy hands grip onto the back of Stephanie’s shirt and he tugs a little too tightly, but she isn’t bothered by that just now. 

She rubs circles into Bucky’s back as he cries. 

They stay silent like this for a while before Bucky slowly lowers his hands. Stephanie also lets go of him and sits back now. 

Bucky’s face is as red as a tomato as he wipes some hot tears away from his eyes. 

Stephanie waits a moment before she says something “...You okay now?” she asked carefully, as to not upset him. 

“Mhm.” Bucky sniffles. 

Bucky looks like a wreck; his hair is all messy and his eyes are all red and puffy and there’s tears stains on his dumb face. She wants him to feel better so badly, she can’t stand seeing him like this. 

Bucky just looks incredibly pained. 

Stephanie is also feeling a little teary eyed herself, she hates how she has no idea what’s causing her best friend so much pain. 

“D’you wanna hold my hand...?” she asks softly, she extends her hand out to Bucky, who’s tear stained eyes linger on it for a moment before he silently places his bigger hand in her smaller one. Bucky’s hands are warm and clammy, but Stephanie doesn’t. She squeezes his hang back. 

They’ve never really held hands before. Just briefly whenever Bucky had to help Stephanie up and off of the ground after a particularly nasty fight, or when it was cold in the winter and they had to huddle together for warmth so they wouldn’t freeze, but they’d never actually done it by choice. So, it felt nice to provide comfort for her best friend through such a small gesture. 

“So, do you wanna, um...” she began. 

Bucky looks over at her with red puffy eyes, waiting for her to find her words. 

“Do you wanna, um...tell me who did it. You don’t have to, though...” 

Bucky sniffles “N-No its fine, um...” he paused for a minute before continuing “I-It was...” Bucky mumbles the last part so quietly Stephanie couldn’t hear it. 

“Sorry, can you speak up?” 

“it was my da—my dad. He hit me...” he confessed, uttering under his breath. 

_What?_

“What?!” she fumed. She felt horrified. Was it true? She knew she or Bucky ever got on with Mr. Barnes much but, _Jesus._

She feels an ugly pit of rage form in her stomach, no-one gets to hurt Bucky like that. Especially his own dad, someone who’s supposed to love and take care of him. How could he! 

“D-Don’t tell anyone!” Bucky replied, his eyes look so frightened, she wants to hug him and take all the pain away so badly. 

Stephanie nods “Okay I won’t...” she agrees, she squeezes Bucky’s hand a little tighter “...Does your mom know?” she asks carefully. 

Bucky looks down and shakes his head slowly. He gulps “...no.” 

_Oh, Bucky._

She shuffles closer to him so that they’re knees are touching. 

She can see Bucky’s eyes better from here, and she can tell that he’s still holding back some tears “Bucky, y’know it’s okay if you wanna cry...” she consoles. 

Bucky sniffles again “I can’t though...” he chokes on a sob. 

“Why?” she puzzles. 

“‘Cause boys don’t cry.” 

“Oh...‘M sorry.” 

“’S not your fault.” Bucky grips her hand tighter. 

“Does he...Does he ever...say why?” she moves closer to him and gently rests her head on his shoulder, Bucky doesn’t shy away from it. 

He leans into it a little but, she can no longer see his face from where she is, but she can tell that he’s got that kicked puppy look on his face. 

“Mhm.” Bucky replies. And he says it so quietly that if they weren’t pressed right onto each other she probably wouldn’t be able to hear him. 

She thinks about yesterday and her brief interaction with Mr. Barnes, and what he said to her. She should’ve known. 

Bucky’s breath hitches “It’s ‘cause...you know...” 

It doesn’t have to be said. 

Stephanie really wants to punch Mr. Barnes now. 

Bucky continues “He--” he chokes on a sob “he says that—that I’m a dis-disappointment ‘n that he—he didn’t ask f-for a r-” his breath hitches, if Stephanie was squeezing Bucky’s hand any tighter right now it would probably be broken “r-retard for a son.” Bucky whimpered. 

Stephanie felt a new kind of rage burn inside her. 

She lets go off his hand and wraps him tightly around the waist instead. 

“You ain’t a disappointment, Buck.” she said definitively. Because it’s true. Bucky is honestly the most important thing in the world to Stephanie, and she’d never change a thing about him. Bucky was ever disappointing in any way because he was _Bucky._ And every little bit of him mattered, from his stupid dorky grin to his dumb jokes. She loved every bit of him, although she’d never tell him that, the stupid jerk would never stop teasing her for it if she did. 

Every part of Bucky built up to make _him._ So the fact that someone would have a problem with one small part of him to the point of violence –especially his own _father_ —made Stephanie sick to her stomach. 

Bucky loosely wraps his own arms around Stephanie’s own waist, but they’re limp and heavy. He’s probably very tired, she doesn’t blame him. 

“Ya sure?” Bucky mumbles, he sounds so hurt and so unsure. Her heart breaks for him. 

She nods into Bucky’s sweaty shirt, it’s gross but she doesn’t much care right now “Heck yeah I am.” she maintains “‘Cause it’s _you_ Bucky, I could never be disappointed.” 

Bucky takes a deep and shaky breath “Well he doesn’t see it that way...” he lamented. 

“But you matter, Bucky. ‘N it’s wrong –what your... dad’s doing...What he did.” 

“But he’s ma dad.” Bucky defends “He...He knows better.” 

“So?” Stephanie challenged “Just ‘cause he’s your dad doesn’t mean he gets to do that to you, that’s mean Buck...well it’s more than mean.” she squeezed Bucky a little tighter, but not harshly. He'd never want to hurt him, if she even could. 

Bucky took a deep sigh that Stephanie felt in her face as it was resting against his shoulder, it was shaky and uncertain “But he...he says it’ll toughen me up. Ma-Make me a better man.” the way Bucky said that made it clear that he was just repeating something that he didn’t actually believe in, like he was trying to convince himself. 

And Stephanie doesn’t believe a word of it either. 

“That’s stupid.” she rebuttals “How’s that even work?” she puzzles, because she truly doesn’t understand that way of thinking. Hitting someone is just mean, and she thinks that there is more included in being a man than just being mean and violent. 

“I dunno...” Bucky admits in almost a whisper “But ‘s probably my fault anyway. I-I shouldn’t...” Bucky doesn’t finish his sentence. He sniffles again and he briefly takes a hand off Stephanie before returning it, probably to wipe a tear away. 

“It is _not_ your fault, Bucky.” she refutes “It is _not_...okay? Don’t blame yourself.” she says truthfully, almost demanding. Because it isn’t Bucky’s fault, and the fact that he’s blaming it on himself just breaks Stephanie’s heart. 

“B-But--” 

“No buts!” she cuts in “ _Stop_ blaming yourself...‘s not your fault.” she reiterates. 

Bucky chokes on a sob and he holds Stephanie a bit closer “Mm.” he hums softly. 

Stephanie feel so bad right now. She feels so incredibly bad for her best friend. There’s absolutely no reason why Bucky should be treated like this, he shouldn’t have to go through his. He should have a daddy who loves him, but he apparently doesn’t. Stephanie can’t think of a single reason why he would deserve such a thing. 

Christ, she had only seen him today, how often does this happen? More accurately how long has this been happening from under Stephanie’s nose. 

“Bucky.” she began. She takes a breath; she even feels herself on the verge of crying “Has this, um...happened before...?” her breath is stuck in her throat and she feels an immense amount of dread set over her, and it’s only enhanced by the fact that she can only imagine how Bucky’s feeling. 

_Please don’t say yes._ She pleads. 

She can feel Bucky’s heart skip a beat, it’s a moment before he answers “...Mhm. Yeah...” he answered. And it’s the most miserable possible answer to say the least. 

_Oh my God._

“Oh...” she sniffled, because she two has tears going down her face now. 

They have to do something, she realises. She’s always told by her mother and other adults that whenever something like this happens, that whenever you get bullied, you’re supposed to tell a trusted adult. But they never say what happens when the trusted adult _is_ the bully. 

Well she wouldn’t exactly use the word ‘trusted’, but the sentiment is still there. 

What on earth are they supposed to do? Stephanie may be young in her years but she’s not stupid, she knows that something like this isn’t safe to say the least. 

What are they going to do? 

Stephanie is brought out of her thoughts when she hears Bucky’s breath hitch and a sob escape his mouth “Steph...” he calls her attention, choking on a sob. 

“Yeah?” she answers. 

“What are...” he sniffles “What am I gonna do...?” he pleads. And he sounds so lost, so desperate. 

“What are _we_ gonna do.” she corrects, because there’s no way she’s going to let him go through this alone, no way. 

Bucky lets out a wet chuckle “St-Stupid punk, keep on f-followin' me an’ crap.” 

“Yeah, I ain’t leavin’ you, pal. Not ever.” 

“Stupid.” 

“I ain’t that dumb!” 

Bucky snorts lightly “Sure.” 

Stephanie sighs “But really. I-I think you should tell your mom.” she suggests. 

“No!” Bucky exclaimed suddenly. 

“Okay...why not?” she asks “Wait, Bucky is your dad...hurting your mom...as well...?” 

“No...” Bucky mumbles. She can hear him audibly gulp “‘S only me. He s-says ‘cause the rest ‘a my family’s n-normal.” Bucky laments, like he’s ashamed. 

“So, you’re not ‘normal’, I guess. But Bucky that ain’t a reason...” she declared. There’s nothing she would change about Bucky, just because his brain worked differently didn’t mean that he deserved to be hurt I the way he was, especially by someone who’s supposed to love him and be there for his. Plus, Stephanie doesn’t think she can talk about another person being not-normal. 

Bucky sniffles “I dunno...I just want him to stop.” Bucky then rests his head on the top of Stephanie’s shoulder, he feels limp and heavy, and tired. 

“Oh. Bucky.” she breathes “Where else do you...got bruises...?” 

Bucky sniffles, Stephanie softly rubs circles into his back “O-On ma arms, ‘n ma t-thighs.” Bucky stammered. 

If Stephanie didn’t feel bad before, she surely felt bad for him now. 

Bucky whimpers on her shoulders. She continues to rub his back smoothly. 

She stays quiet to let Bucky keep talking “He-he usually just hits me with his h-hands but s-sometimes he uses his b-belt.” he sobs into her shoulder, her cheap itchy and scratchy shirt staining with her best friends' tears. 

“That’s, That’s horrible, Bucky.” 

“What are we gonna do?” he pleas he clutches the back of Stephanie’s shirt, like he’s clinging on. 

She gulps “I-I dunno Bucky, I think we have to tell your mom.” 

“I dunno...” Bucky mumbles “I-I don’t know how she’d take it.” he gulps. 

“D’you...d’you want me to tell her?” she suggests carefully and softly. 

Bucky shakes his head slowly into her shoulder “...no. I-I'll tell her.” he decides. 

“Okay.” 

“But c-can you be there? With me? When I... tell her...?” Bucky asks meekly. 

“Of course!” she answers “I’d do anything for you, Buck.” 

Bucky giggles, but it’s wet and miserable. But she can feel him smile into her shoulder, it’s a small smile bit it’s there “‘Course you would, punk.” he remarked. 

“Aaaand he’s back.” she smiles. 

“But really though...‘m glad that you’re gonna...Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, jerk.” 

They stay like that for a while. With their arms wrapped around each other on the floor of Stephanie’s tiny living room. 

She hopes Bucky is going to be okay. 

* 

_“How could you, George?! How could you?!”_ Mrs. Barnes rages from the living room. Stephanie and Bucky had been shoved off to the kitchen after they’d told Bucky’s mom. And Mrs. Barnes immediately went to go find her good-for-nothing husband and dragged him to the living room and tore into him. This had been going on for a while now. 

Thank god that Becca was at her friends and the twins were upstairs resting. Otherwise they’d have to deal with three screaming girls along with a screaming mother. 

The two children were huddled together whilst leaning against the stove, hand in hand. 

Others may say that a boy and a girl shouldn’t be holding hands in the way they were. But physical contact had just become so normal between them that they rarely even thought about it, it just _was_. 

Despite the door to the kitchen being closed they could still hear almost everything which was being said, which just proved the volume of an enraged and loving mother protecting her child. 

_“Hey, c’mon. It’s not like it’s my fault that he’s so--”_

_“So, what, George?! What do you think he is?!”_

_“You know. It’s not my fuckin’ fault that he’s retarded!”_

_“He’s your son!”_

Stephanie feels Bucky tense beside her. They were huddled right next to each other, almost like they were glued together. 

Bucky squeezes Stephanie’s hand a little bit tighter. 

“You alright?” she asks him just to make sure. Although she can tell by his slight shaking that he’s not doing so good, but she can at least make sure. 

“Mhm.” Bucky responds “Just they’re u-usually not this loud when they argue.” 

“They fight like this often?” 

Bucky snuggles in closer to her “Not really, or if they do ‘s not this loud.” 

Something made of glass breaks in the living room. 

“Do they argue...over you?” 

Bucky sighs “Sometimes...” he doesn’t finish his sentence. 

" _Don’t tell me what to do, woman!"_

" _Oh, I'll tell you what to do, and you’re going to listen!"_

Bucky flinches next to her. 

“He’s not gonna hurt you anymore...I’ll protect you...‘n stuff.” 

“Aw, you care about me, punk?” 

She hums “What if I did?” she teases. 

Bucky chuckles “Then I’d call you a sap.” 

“I ain’t a sap, Buck. If anythin’ _you’re_ the sappy one.” 

“Stupid.” 

_“ He’s done nothing wrong!”_

_“ What he’s done is test my fucking patience!”_

Stephanie feels a pit in her stomach. Looking back, she should’ve known that he would turn out to be as vile and as evil of a man as he turned out to be. She should’ve seen it in the way that he was never joyful or happy. How he always wore a scowl or a frown and how he scoffed constantly. And just in his general attitude, she should’ve known “Bucky you know you ain’t done anything wrong.” she tries to reassure, she needs Bucky to know that it’s not his fault, but she doesn’t know if he gets that. 

“Mhm. I know.” he replies. But he doesn’t sound sincere. 

“Bucky.” 

Bucky sighs “I know, okay. Well, I mean like...yeah, I know.” he rambles. 

_“He shoulda thought of that before he decided he couldn’t fucking read!”_

_“He can read and you know it! You damn well know that’s not it!”_

_“It’s not like he chose it! There’s nothing wrong with him!”_

_“You know I was only doin’ what I should. Y’know I tried to fuckin’ fix him but he’s still fuckin’... ”_

_“He’s not to be ‘fixed’!”_

_“I still think we oughtta send ‘em off somewhere, they could cure him!”_

_“There’s nothing to ‘cure’! He’s a fucking person!”_

  
_“I am not letting some quack poke around in my son’s brain!”_

_“Why not?!”_

_“You seriously want me to tell you why I don’t want my son_ lobotomised? _Maybe you’re the fucking crazy one!”_

_“Don’t talk to me like that!”_

_“That’s it! Pack your fucking bags!”_

_"What did you say to me?!”_

_“You heard me! Pack a fucking suitcase and get the hell outta my house!”_

_“And what’re you gonna do without me, huh? You know I pay the damn bills for this place!”_

_“I’d rather live in a dumpster under the fucking bridge then live with a man like you! So, get the fuck outta my house. ”_

_“What the hell are you gonna do without me?! That boy’s already a fuckin’ sissy with me around. I’m not gonna leave just to find out he’s magically a fuckin’ girl or something. ”_

_“He is ten-years-old! And you won’t be comin' back! Get the fuck out! And don’t you dare talk to me about my son like that!”_

_“But I gotta stay here to straighten him out! He’s gonna grow up to be a damn pansy if I don’t do somethin’ about it!”_

_“Get out or I'll drag you out!”_

_“I’m just sayin ’ ! You know I bet it’s because ‘a that fuckin’ Irish bitch. That Rogers girl he hangs around with! You just can’t let boys and girl mix like that! It ain’t right! And you know what kind boy’s that creates!”_

_“Stephanie’s just a girl! Leave her out of this!”_

_“GET OUT!”_

There’s a loud crash of something coming from the living room, it sounds like several things being knocked over at once. And breaking and smashing.” 

Stephanie hears heavy footsteps stumble out the front door. 

“ _And you can come back for your things tomorrow_!” 

Stephanie then hears light footsteps quickly get closer and closer until the kitchen door opens and Mrs. Barnes is there in the doorway. 

“Oh, honey.” she says and quickly makes a move to bring her child in her arms, Stephanie lets go of Bucky to allow Mrs. Barnes to hold her whimpering son in her arms. 

Bucky’s face is buried in his mother’s neck as she rubs small circles into his back and strokes his hair. 

Stephanie still keeps a hand on Bucky’s back however. 

“Shhhhh.” she tries. Her hair is messy and she looks like she’s still coming down from an adrenaline rush, she doesn’t blame her. Bucky’s arms are now around his mother’s waist “It’s okay.” she consoles “It’s okay, he’s gone, he’s gone. It’s okay. You’re okay.” she soothes. Stephanie can see Bucky visibly relax. 

“Mm.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me, baby? Why?” she fretted. 

“‘C-Cause. I didn’t wanna worry you...” he answered. 

“But you were hurting. You could of...Could of told me...” 

“A-Are you mad?” 

She sighs “No I’m not mad honey...I just wish I could’ve helped sooner.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise, it’s not your fault. It’s nowhere _near_ your fault.” said Mrs. Barnes. 

“She’s right, Bucky.” Stephanie pipes in. 

Mrs. Barnes briefly looks at Stephanie for a moment before she presses a kiss to the top of her son’s head. 

“James, honey. It’s getting late, why don’t you head to bed? I’ll be up in a minute.” Mrs. Barnes suggests to Bucky. 

Stephanie looks to the window and she sees the once orange glow of the late afternoon sky replaced itself with a dark blue glow of the evening. They had been in here a while. 

Bucky nods and separates from his mother “Okay.” he said. 

“Give Stephanie a good night hug!” 

Bucky rolls his eyes “But Ma, that’s not a thing.” 

“C’mon, give your bestie a hug!” 

Bucky smiles and then brings Stephanie into his arms “G’night, Steph.” 

“Night, Bucky.” 

They break apart and Bucky wearily walks to the staircase. She hopes he’s okay. 

Now it’s just Stephanie and Mrs. Barnes alone in the kitchen. 

“Stephanie,” Mrs. Barnes suddenly begins. She turns around to look at him. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m very grateful for you being a friend to Bucky.” she informs. Her eyes are slightly wet “You know. I know that a lot of the girls fancy him at school, but before he met you, he really had trouble making friends.” Stephanie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. For as long as she’s known Bucky, he’s always been very confident, if a little cocky. And she had taken to him immediately –like they were meant to be or something—so the idea that Bucky ever had trouble being _Bucky_ was just so foreign to her. 

“Really?” she questions. 

It’s a little bit hard to see in the darkness of the evening light but from what Stephanie could see, Mrs. Barnes was smiling a little bit “Yeah, I know it’s hard to believe, but he used to be pretty quiet and kept to himself, you see he was pretty...embarrassed.” she tells. 

“Oh...Well I’m very, _very_ glad I met him! He’s my best friend ever! Well, he’s my only friend, but...” 

Mrs. Barnes chuckled and pat Stephanie on the head “I’m glad you two met each other as well, I believe that you’re very good for each other.” she admits “You know, the day that you two first met each other he came running home all excited ‘ _Mom! Mom! I made a friend today!’_ he said to me, he sounded so excited, and so happy.” Mrs. Barnes resounded. 

That reminds Stephanie of the conversation she had with her own mother the day she met Bucky. She had been ecstatic about finally making a friend. Stephanie had always had problems with other people, she was just too violent and opinionated to really get along with anyone, and she was too stubborn to change. And she had just never fit in with other girls her age, and certainly not the boys. So, she was never shocked that she never really had any friends, but she had just assumed Bucky was this hot-shot who could be friends with anyone he wanted. 

She wonders why she didn’t know that before. 

“And,” Mrs. Barnes continues “I know that boys usually aren't supposed to make friends with girls at that age, but I didn’t even care that you were a girl. I was just so glad that he finally had someone.” she giggles lightly. 

Stephanie smiles back “I think that’s pretty stupid though, I don’t know why I can’t make friends with boys.” 

“It is pretty silly isn’t it?” she replies. 

Stephanie snorts “Yeah.” she yawns, feeling tired. 

“Oh,” Mrs. Barnes said “I should probably call your mother, you look exhausted.” she points out, and Stephanie can’t help but agree. She knows it’s probably way past her bed time. 

“Mhm. Okay.” she agrees, going to bed seems pretty good right now “Um,” she hesitates “are you okay, Mrs. Barnes?” she asks, concerned. Stephanie had only heard bits of it but it sounded like a pretty nasty fight. 

Mrs. Barnes’ brows raise like she hadn’t been expecting Stephanie to ask “I’m okay, thank you. That’s very kind of you to ask.” she clarified. 

“Okay, that’s, that’s good.” 

A moment passes before either of them speak again. 

“I’ll call your mom and have her pick you up, I don’t think it’s safe for you to walk home by yourself at this time of night.” 

“Yeah, thank you, ma’am.” 

“Oh, and Stephanie?” 

“Mhm?” 

“Thank you for looking out for Bucky the way you did. I truly don’t think he could have a better friend than you.” 

“Thank you.” 

“You’ve been looking out for him for so long. But now, let me help my boy.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

* 

Principal Hadley smacks her wrinkled and dry crusty lips “I’m sorry ma’am, but it’s the rules.” she stated harshly with spite on her tongue. 

Stephanie’s mother who was sitting next to her angrily takes her cigarette out of her mouth “Like hell it’s the rules!” she explodes “How does the way that my child dresses have anything to do with her education!?” she demands. 

Stephanie sinks low on her cheap wooden seat. She had been able to wear boys' clothes and have a boys’ haircut for _months_ now, and she hadn’t gotten in trouble for it yet. She thought she was going to be able to get away with it, but apparently not. 

She’s going to have to go back to wearing dresses and wearing her hair in braids and—oh God. 

She just really, _really_ doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to, she doesn’t-- she _can’t._

Principal Hadley makes maybe the heaviest sigh possible “We’re not saying it does. However, there is a dress code. And if your daughter cannot comply then we’re going to have to issue a suspension for violating school policy.” Stephanie winces at being called ‘daughter’ for some reason the word and words like that just didn’t feel right. Felt like she was being stabbed right through the chest whenever someone said them 

Her mother grunts “Your school policy can--” 

“Mom.” Stephanie cuts in. She just wants to leave honestly; she doesn’t want to make a big scene. But her mother could be just as stubborn and opinionated as she was sometimes, maybe even more. 

“Sorry.” her mother apologises “I just want to know what the worst thing a girl wearin’ shorts can _possibly_ do.” she remarks. 

“Mrs. Rogers.” Principal Hadley warns “You know that we take purity in young girls _very_ seriously, and any behaviours depicting any sort of deviancy of any sort is punishable by at _least_ a week's detention, and young Stephanie knows this. And yet.” she gestures to Stephanie, who wants nothing more but to fade out of existence right now. Or to curl up in a pile of blankets and lie there for a very long time. 

The air is thick and Stephanie can practically _feel_ her mom’s eyes narrow “What on earth are you tryna say?” she barks. 

Principal Hadley looks very annoyed now “I’m saying that your daughter ought to act like a proper young lady if she expects my teachers to take her education seriously. We mustn't allow her to set such a negative example for the other girls in this school.” Stephanie feels insulted at this point; she _does_ take her education seriously. What does her wearing shorts have anything to do with this? 

He mother takes a drag from her cigarette “If some other girl wants to start wearin’ shorts then I don’t see how my daughter has anything to do with that.” 

“I’m not quite sure you understand.” Principal Hadley says through gritted teeth “What your daughter is doing is...unfavourable. Male and females are supposed to be separate for a reason. We can’t let them...integrate like this, and your child’s behaviour is a vacuum for these sorts of things.” vacuum for what? 

“What’re you implin’? What on earth do you think she’s gettin’ up to?” 

“Because of her behaviour boys in the playground and in her class think it’s okay to treat her like she is one,” that isn’t true. Stephanie thinks. It simply isn’t true at all, sure she guessed she got on better with boys than she got on with girls –her best friend is a prime example—but the way that Principal Hadley is making it sound is like that she gets invited to play football or soccer with the other boys, which she isn’t. She’s telling nothing but lies “and this is a simply damaging example for the other girl students. Especially with her fooling around with that Barnes boy like she is.” what did Bucky have to do with this? 

Her mother puts her spare hand on the back of Stephanie’s neck reassuringly “Why is that bad? She’s not causin’ any harm.” she puzzles. 

“Not causing any—Ma’am, I don’t think you understand.” Principal Hadley echoes. 

The cheap chair creaks as her mother leans forwards in it “Oh no I understand perfectly, but what I _don’t_ understand is why you think it’s affecting my daughter’s education at all. She’s here to learn after all, so why does it matter? What, is some poor boy going to faint at the sight of her knees.” she remarks sarcastically, a sardonic chuckle accenting her tone. 

“Among other things yes.” Principal Hadley confirms completely seriously. Stephanie just wants to go home “Don’t worry I’ve seen this sort of act before, just start treating her like the girl she is again, and she’ll straighten out in no time. It’s just a strange little phase she’s going through, but if you keep enabling this kind of behaviour then it’ll stick. And that most certainly will not do if she ever wants to find a husband one day.” what on earth-- 

“First of all, my child is nine-years-old, so I feel like you’re bein’ inappropriate. And second, don’t you dare try to tell me how to parent my child.” her mother snaps. 

Principal Hadley’s thin grey eyebrows pinch together in frustration “I am doing nothing of the sort. I am merely stating what is accepted at my school and what is not.” Stephanie sinks even lower in her chair, if that’s even possible. Principal Hadley gestures towards the clock on the wall behind her “Oh, would you look at the time, it’s almost four thirty.” it was nowhere near four thirty, it was barely even four o’clock yet “I think this declares our meeting over, good day Mrs. Rogers.” 

Her mother puts her cigarette out on Principal Hadley’s desk. And the look on her face is priceless “Yeah. You too.” she said in a tone that is nowhere near sincere. 

Her and her mother leave the principal's office. And Stephanie just wants to curl up in a pile of blankets and never emerge. 

She gulps. She’s going to have to wear dresses again. She’s going to have to look like a girl again. 

Bucky’s eyes examine Stephanie’s form with surprised eyes “You’re wearin’ a dress again.” he states, eyeing her pink dress that ended in her mid-shin. 

“I know! An’ I wanna rip it off!” she exclaimed throwing her arms up in annoyance “I hate it...” she sighs and folds her arms over her chest. There’s a lump in her throat that hasn’t left since she was told she couldn’t wear shorts or trousers anymore. This morning while she was getting changed back into clothes she hasn’t worn in forever; she didn’t even kick or scream or cry like she expected to. She just solemnly put the dress on and tried to avoid mirrors. She just felt uncomfortable and exposed and _wrong._

“Then don’t wear it.” Bucky shrugged. 

“It’s not like I want to! Stupid principle is making me wear it, says I’m violating the dress code or somethin’.” she huffed. She felt so itchy and out of her skin. She didn’t feel like her. 

Bucky frowned “Aw, ‘m sorry, that sucks.” 

“Yeah. I look stupid.” 

“I think you look...pretty?” 

“Wow you sound so sure.” she remarks sarcastically 

“‘M sorry. I dunno what you wanna hear.” 

“Well ‘s not that.” Stephanie looks down at her feet “...And I also have to grow my hair back out.” she almost chokes on her breath when she said that. Just the thought of being that little girl with long blonde hair and a flowy dress just felt so wrong to her. She just didn’t ever want to be like that again, because it just wasn’t her. Why couldn’t people see that? 

“Oh. Sorry, that sucks.” Bucky sympathises. 

“Yeah, it does. I don’t wanna be _pretty!”_

Bucky shrugged “I don’t get it though, like you were only wearin’ shorts, I don’t see how that’s bad.” 

“Exactly! It’s not!” she sighs “But the stupid principal said that my knees were gonna ‘distract boys’ or somethin’, but boys don’t care I don’t think. It’s just ma knees.” 

Bucky’s eyebrow’s pinched together in confusion “Yeah. I’m a boy an’ I couldn’t give a darn about your knees, Steph.” 

“ _Ugh!”_ she huffed even harder “Tell that to the principal.” she pressed her lips into a line “Wish I was a boy sometimes, then I could wear shorts an’ no one would care.” she said “And I could do what I want, and talk like I want, and wear what I want. And no-one could tell me off. For it.” 

“Yeah. I mean, if someone forced _me_ to wear somethin’ I didn’t want, I'd be in a mood.” Bucky agreed. 

“Exactly. I feel so uncomfortable in dresses.” she sighed 

“Why’s that?” 

“I dunno, they just don’t feel right, I guess.” 

Bucky opened his mouth to say something before he was interrupted. 

“Oh my God, look!” a boy near them called. Stephanie looked around to see who it was and it was a boy from her class –John. 

“Oh no.” Bucky cursed as he noticed John and a couple other boys approach them. Stephanie felt her adrenaline spike, this sort of thing was never a good sign. 

They are approached by the couple of boys -–all three of which she recognised from her class. 

Stephanie eyed them “What do you want?” she barked. 

“Look who’s finally wearing a dress!” one of them marvelled. But Stephanie didn’t like the way he said it. 

Was he looking for a fight? 

“She really _is_ a girl!” one of them proclaims and then a chorus of laughter erupts between the small group. She can see Bucky instinctively stand closer to Stephanie, as is routine at this point. 

Stephanie puts on her best intimidating face “Somethin’ funny?” she warned. 

One of the boy's snorts “Aw, is _Steve_ offended?” he jeers. 

Stephanie doesn’t even think about it when she reels her fist back and swings it at the boy. But before her fist could make contact with his face, Bucky pulls her away. 

He’s holding her by the stomach as he drags her away. 

“Lemme go!” she orders as she tries to escape her best friend’s arms. But Bucky was just so much stronger and so much bigger that he was able to pick her up with no problem and carry her to behind the building and out of the random group of boys' sights. 

She struggles some more “Put me down!” she demands as she kicks her legs and flails her arms. 

Bucky obeys and he places her back on the ground. 

She glares at him “What the hell?!” she yells. 

“Are you kiddin’?” Bucky responds “I was helping you!” Bucky defends. 

“No, you weren’t!” she shot back “Nothing was gonna happen!” 

Bucky rolls his eyes “Now you’re just bein’ stupid! I saw your face! I just _knew_ that you were gonna do that!” Bucky yells back. 

Stephanie huffs “I was _fine!_ I didn’t need your help!” she yells. She would’ve been fine. She doesn’t know why Bucky was babying her like this “You don’t need to do this...” she sighs. 

“Yes, I do.” Bucky disagrees “‘Cause who else is gonna pull you outta trouble.” Bucky smiles down at her “Admit it, you like when I’m around.” he teases. 

“Well yeah you’re my best pal.” she admits “Wait you really care that much about me?” she asks. Although she’s 100% sure what the answer is. 

“Yeah. Enda the line, pal.” Bucky responds instantly. 

Stephanie is confused “What line? There ain’t a line, stupid.” 

Bucky wines a little bit that makes Stephanie giggle “No but, just imagine.” 

“Imagine what? What stinkin’ line?” 

“I mean like--” 

“But that’s just silly! Where’s the line?” 

“ _Steeeeeph_ _._ ” Bucky moaned in annoyance “I mean like, the line’s...time, an’ we’re together... ‘til the end ‘a it.” there’s a small ghost of a blush appearing on Bucky’s face. 

Stephanie snorts “What kinda sappy crap is this, jerk.” she teases. 

“Language. An’ ‘s not sappy. Just true. And I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.” 

“’S pretty crafty, you come up with that?” she giggles. 

“Shut up. ‘A meant it.” 

“Aw, you care about me!” 

“Shush or I’ll un-mean it.” 

“But you _caaaaare_ about me!” 

“Nu-uh. No way. You’re just so stupid, so I gotta watch out for you ‘cause you’re jus’ that dumb.” 

“Nah, you _looooooove_ me!” 

“So, what if I did, punk?” 

“Then I would say same.” she smiles “‘Til the line ends.” 

“It’s ‘til the end of the line! Get it right!” 

“You’re a jerk.” 

“You’re a punk.” 

“I know.” 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> -homophobia  
> -negative use of the word queer  
> -brief discriminatory terms for irish people  
> -mentions of abuse/aftermath of physical abuse  
> -r-slur


	4. 1928

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ajkskjk sorry this took so long to come out. school just started recently --and anxiety came with that. and yeah this one isn't as long as i would like, but school has just completely fucked with my whole writing schedule and it's been very hard to actually get a good amount of writing in as i've been left with only a spare couple of hours a day when i'm usually tired and worn out. so updates will be slow and weird for a while but i have a large amount of the later chapters already written because i wrote those scenes a while ago when i first had this idea --so those will also need a rewrite. anyway i hope y'all enjoy !! :D

1928 had been okay-ish so far. The last few months of 1927 had been sort of horrible, as well as good sometimes, Bucky’s dad finally leaving had been a highlight, but the remaining Barnes's had struggled at Christmas without Mr. Barnes’ paycheck, and Bucky’s and Stephanie’s recent birthdays this year had been underwhelming to say the least. But overall that aspect of the year had been good. Bucky had seemed a lot happier lately because of that. 

However. That didn’t take away from the rest of the year. The school made Stephanie wear dresses again and grow her hair out again. And she felt more disconnected that uncomfortable to be honest. Less of an angry meltdown and more of a quiet disappointment. Walking around wearing skirts and dresses just made her feel like she was playing pretend. Like she was constantly putting on an act that she has no idea how to turn off, and isn’t allowed to find out. 

Maybe she wasn’t supposed to be ‘Stephanie’. Maybe she was supposed to be someone else. And maybe she would be happier as someone else. 

But, she has absolutely no idea who that person would be. 

But she’s probably overreacting. Just being a childish little girl –as people would tell her—and she’ll probably just grow out of it. When she’s a grown-up she’ll be normal. And she’ll be happy with wearing skirts and having girly hairstyles and she’ll feel confident walking around in heels. And she’ll have tones of girl-friends and she’ll have a boyfriend. Because that’s what she’s been hearing for so long, that she can’t picture any alternative. 

Maybe when she’s older she won’t flinch at her own name or feel such a foreign feeling when the teacher separates the class between boys and girls. Maybe when she’s older she’ll ‘straighten out’. Or maybe she’ll forever stay ‘ _weirdo Stevie',_ that troublemaker of a girl from down the street. The one who hangs around with boys and talks and dresses like she is one _._ Maybe she’ll grow out of it and be a proper girl one day. Maybe she won’t. She doesn’t like the uncertainty. 

Uncertainty came with a lot of other unwanted ugliness as well. Stephanie rarely knows what she’s feeling, or why she’s feeling it. And because of that it tends to make her angry as well as sad. She doesn’t know why she feels like an outcast in every setting so she tries to combat that by trying to shove herself into certain roles. The one of the daughter, the troublemaker, and the best friend are all roles she has to play. It’s not that she despises those roles and the people they affect inherently; she just feels like she’s lying. But how could she be lying when she doesn’t even know what the truth is? 

She loves her mother, and she loves Bucky. She truly does. She says it to her mother all the time, and she says it to her best friend no matter the teasing he gives her. But none of that manages to bury the feeling of guilt that Stephanie has _all the time_ from just _existing_ _._ Not even a little bit. 

She knows that she’s probably ‘too young to know that’, she’s been told that many times by scrutinising neighbours and unsympathetic teachers. Buts she can’t help but feel like she’s doing everything wrong. She can’t help but feel like her name isn’t hers, and she can’t help the feeling that she’s supposed to be someone else. 

She can’t help any of it. But she wishes they could. 

If there was a way for Stephanie to feel even a little bit normal, she would do it. 

But there isn’t. And she just has to deal with that. 

* 

“--what about _this_ one?” Stephanie’s mother asks with a smile as she holds up an ugly tan coloured dress. It was a lot less girly than the other dresses she had been shown –by a long shot—but it still didn’t appeal to her, she didn’t get why her mother didn’t seem to understand that Stephanie doesn’t _want_ to wear a dress of any kind of dress or skirt. 

An annoyed sigh leaves her mother’s mouth as she angrily places the dress back on its rack. That had been the tenth one that Stephanie said no to. 

“Well you have to pick _something_.” her mother grumbles. They had been at this for almost an hour, but every single option that her mother had suggested to Stephanie just seemed horrible, even the ‘girls shorts’ --that was clearly basically a skirt seemed repulsive to her. 

“But I don’t like anything.” she whines, stomping her foot on the ground. 

Her mother sighs and puts her hands on her hips “I’m not going to do this all day, Steph. You have school tomorrow and we don’t have anything ready in time.” her mother scolds with her classic Mom Stare. 

“I just don’t want any of those ones.” she complains. 

Stephanie really hated shopping for clothes, every single time was an absolute nightmare. Her mother would take her around the isles of the clothes they could actually afford and then she would hold up a series of identical dresses and make Stephanie choose one, and she hated it every single time. She just couldn’t seem to make her mind up when she was gazing at the boy’s section the whole time. 

“I know you don’t like them, but you’re growing now, so you have to choose one.” her mother explained in a strained tone, she was clearly ‘losing her patience’ now, as she puts it. 

“You pick something then.” she shoots back a little too aggressively. 

“Alright, that’s enough of that tone.” her mother scolds. She sighs, and she opened her mouth like she was about to say something but was cut off. 

“Is there anything I can help you with, ma’am?” a young woman in a work uniform asks. She must work her. 

Her mother flashes a smile at the young woman “Oh! No, we’re doing just fine actually.” she chirps, casting Stephanie a look. 

The young woman’s face twists from her put-on customer service smile to a very dirty look when her mother spoke. 

“Is there a problem?” her mother asks carefully. 

The young woman then switches her face back to an extremely forced smile “No, I don’t think so!” she fake-laughed and walked off, leaving the young girl in confusion. 

“What was that about?” 

“Nothing you need to worry about?” her mother answers. She picked up a small blue dress from the rack “Let’s just get this one.” she says as she takes Stephanie to the counter. 

And the whole time they were there, Stephanie couldn’t keep her eyes off a particular set of suspenders and dark slacks. 

She wishes she could. 

* 

Stephanie picks at the food on her plate, her stomach is empty and it’s rumbling and begging for food, but she just can’t seem to bring herself to eat. 

“Are you alright, darlin’?” her mother asks with concern from where she’s trying to patch up a dent in the wall from where Stephanie had punched her fist in a couple of days ago when she had felt overwhelmed. She honestly didn’t know why; she wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with the fact that her teacher was separating the boys and girls in the class or not. But it definitely didn’t make her feel great, she had just woken up that day with everything seemingly feeling _wrong._

She looks up from her plate to see her mother’s concerned face. Stephanie knows she’s been acting up more than usual recently, schoolyard fights and street scraps were becoming more common and Stephanie was getting into more trouble because of it, but despite what adults were telling her, she couldn’t just _stop._

“Mm-hm.” she answers. 

Her mother looks worried now, and Stephanie knows it’s probably not fair on her to keep all her confusing feelings inside, but she doesn’t want to burden her with her feelings either. Not when Stephani barely understands them herself. 

“What is it? You can tell me.” she confided. 

Stephanie mumbled as she poked at the peas on her plate, she doesn't like peas. 

“Nothin’, ‘m fine.” she mumbled. 

Her mother sends her a look that’s nothing short of confusion “It’s not _nothin’_ if it’s got you like this.” 

She shrugs “I dunno, I guess I just feel...” she tries to find the words. She doesn’t know how to put it into a sentence. She barely understands her own feelings as it is, never mind trying to explain them to someone else “...weird.” 

“What do you mean ‘weird’?” 

“I... I dunno, just kinda...out of place I guess.” she shrugs again, feeling defeated. 

“Out of place?” her mother echoes. She doesn’t seem to be all that interested in patching up the hole anymore. 

“Yeah. Just...I dunno, I just can’t,” she pauses “fit in anywhere.” 

“Really? Are you being excluded at school?” 

She shrugs once more “I mean...kinda? But I feel like I can’t play with the girls...but the boys don’t want me either.” she laments, and it’s true. She definitely feels like she isn’t wanted anywhere. The boy call her names and they hit her sometimes, and the girls would just rather pretend like she didn’t exist, sometimes Stephanie does as well. 

Either way, she just feels like there’s this sort of rule with girls like Stephanie –if there even are other girls like Stephanie. 

“But you still have Bucky, don’t you?” 

“Yeah. Always.” she says with confidence. She can definitely say that for sure. She and bucky will always be together, ‘til the end of the line and all that “I just mean like...I’m not wanted, I guess.” she sighs heavily. 

“Who on earth’s makin’ you feel like that?” 

“No one specifically... ‘s more of a me thing I guess.” 

“I’m sorry you’re feelin’ like that.” her mother consoles. She pulls a chair out at the small circular dining table that Stephanie is slumped over at, she feels drained. 

Her mother moves some of Stephanie’s too-long hair out of her face and places it neatly behind her ear. Stephanie’s hair as just about long enough to create some sort of wave at the bottom, and even the sight of it makes her want to rip all of her hair out. 

“I wish I could help...I really do, and I would. I just wish you would tell me what’s going on...You’re not even a teenager yet but sometimes I think you’re more stressed than I am.” she snorts, but it’s empty and lacks humour. 

Stephanie can’t bring herself to disagree with what her mother said though. 

“I guess. I just don’t understand it either...” 

“Is it because of this?” her mother asks softly as she tugs on a bit of fabric from Stephanie’s dress. 

Stephanie truly doesn’t know what to say, she feels more numb than anything. She’s just uncomfortable right now, she can barely even _look_ at herself right now without just feeling uncomfortable with all the things she doesn’t like. Maybe she’s just ugly. 

Instead of saying any of that, she just nods. 

“Oh.” she breathes “I just want you to be happy...” 

Stephanie sniffles a little bit “S-Same.” she admits “...but I f-feel like I can’t.” 

Her mother puts a hand on Stephanie’s shoulder. 

Stephanie leans into her mother’s shoulder. It makes her feel better, but just for a bit. Because every day is starting to feel the same nowadays. 

* 

“What do you wanna be when you grow up?” Bucky asks suddenly from where they’re sitting on the steps to Stephanie’s apartment complex. The cool concrete of the cracked stairs felt odd and rough from beneath Stephanie’s dress. She winces as she feels the cool breeze against her exposed and scratchy knees. 

Stephanie shrugs, she had never really thought about this much before. Sure, she had been asked what she wanted to be when she was a grown-up before, and she had always said ‘artist’ on instinct because she honestly just couldn’t picture herself as an adult in any context. She just couldn’t ever create an adult image of herself in her head, what would she even look like? Would she even still be wearing dresses then? 

“I dunno.” she eventually answers, shrugging. 

Bucky gives her a weird look “Well, I think I’d wanna either take pictures or play the piano.” he guesses “Or like, y’know...sciencey things...” he mumbles as a small blush spreads on his face. 

“Sciencey things?” Stephanie echoes. 

“Mhm.” Bucky mumbles, looking slightly embarrassed. Aw. 

Recently her best friends had been obsessed with this thing called ‘science fiction’ and it was usually thing like books and comics about aliens, and technology and the future and things like that. Things like what people think cars are going to look like in twenty years or so, and that the pavements will be moving instead of the people moving on them, or something like that. Bucky looked like a complete dork when he would just sit there are starry-eyed and talk about them for _hours._

The young boy seemed to fascinated with the concept of the future and how things will change and why and how. Which was strange to Stephanie to say the least, when she herself could barely imagine what herself in the present would be like in someone else’s eyes. Never mind in fifty years when cars drive themselves –apparently. 

It was a recent development to say the least, she doesn’t think she’s ever heard someone talk about self-driving-automobiles so passionately before. It makes her smile to see her best friend’s smile at such things, especially with the things he had been going through recently. 

Bucky turned red and covered his flustered face with his hands “Don’t laugh at me!” he spluttered. 

“I am not! I promise!” she denies with a smile “Ain’t gotta be embarrassed, Buck.” 

Bucky has seemed to have retracted into himself as his hands cover his face. Stephanie doesn’t feel too bad because she knows that if she truly upset Bucky, he wouldn’t tell her Which is as good as it is bad, because in on way it’s Bucky not wanting start a fight –even though it was well known that Stephanie was the troublemaker—but it also means that he usually hides everything until he no longer can. 

“You can’t see me. ‘M not here.” said Bucky, his voice muffled behind his hands. 

Stephanie lightly kicks Bucky on the shine in a joking manner “‘M not making fun of you! ‘S good, I think it makes you, uh, real smart.” 

Bucky takes his hands away from his face and Stephanie can see that he’s doing that stupid grin that he does “Well I mean, _someone’s_ gotta be the smart one between us.” Bucky looks like he feels complimented. Which Stephanie hopes he is, because no matter what anyone would tell him Bucky _was_ smart, just in different ways, was all. And it was a shame that some people, teachers especially, chose to ignore that. 

“Meanie.” Stephanie teases as she lightly kicks him again. 

“Didn’t lie though.” Bucky shot back kightly as he kicked her back. 

“Mm.” she hummed “But yeah I think you’d be good at that, you’re smart.” 

Bucky snorts “Am not.” well, that was incorrect “But if I don’t wanna do that then I think I’d wanna, like, be a photographer, or a pianist.” 

Pianist? Wasn’t that a bit... “Ain’t those a bit girly?” 

“Shut up, like you can talk.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that...” she apologises “How you gonna afford those, though?” 

Bucky shrugs “I dunno, jus’ dreamin’, Steph.” 

“Fair. So, which one do you wanna be the most?” 

“I dunno. I like all ‘a them.” Bucky eyes lit up like they always did whenever he would talk about something he liked “Like, I think I'd wanna take pictures of people, or places. Like the bridge would be real nice. But I think playin’ the piano in those jazz clubs would also be cool. When I'm a grown-up, obviously.” Bucky still has that wide smile that brought with it a level of happiness that Stephanie could just never achieve when she thought about herself and what she might be “What about you?” Bucky asks for the second time. 

“I dunno” Stephanie mumbles as she picks at her too-long brittle nails that just kept growing and growing no matter how many times, she would cut them or file them down. They just kept growing back, even if she rips them to pieces. They still grow back, dainty and pretty. Like a girl’s nails. 

She feels this weird sort of emptiness in her stomach now, almost like a void. It large and dark and frightening. She really isn’t sure what she wants to be when she’s all grown up, she can’t even picture herself all grown up. No matter how hard she tries she just can’t picture herself in the future, or whenever she tries to, she feels a strange sort of anxiety take over. She knows that she will eventually grow up to be someone who wears long dresses past her knees and curs her hair in short waves and wear makeup and jewellery so she’ll catch boy's attention. She’ll eventually grow up to be a woman, she knows that. But she just can’t picture herself that way. And she doesn’t want to. 

So “an artist I think.” is what she ends up answering. She picks at her nails, she despises them. 

“You better! You’re art’s amazin’, Steph! Most beautiful things I've ever looked at!” Bucky beams. 

Stephanie blushes and she has no doubt that her face is as red as a tomato. She fides with the hem of her dress. They weren’t _that_ good. It was just a hobby 

“They’re not _that_ good.” she mumbles. 

Bucky looks like he’s been completely and utterly offended “Yeah they are!” he exclaims “They’re amazin’!” 

“You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause you’re my best friend.” she said, defeated. 

“No, I’m not!” Bucky replies “They’re actually really good!” he insists. 

Stephanie shrugs “But they’re not, though. I just kinda doodle.” 

Bucky gives her a weird look “I’m still right, stupid.” 

“Don’t call me stupid.” 

“Don’t be stupid then.” 

Stephanie sorts. 

Suddenly Stephanie hears a pair of footprints behind her, as well as a voice accompanied with them “James.” the voice that belongs to Stephanie’s mother says. 

The two kids turn around to look at her. 

“It’s getting pretty late; shouldn’t you be on you way home by now?” she questioned from the entrance to the building. Stephanie looked to the sky for a brief moment and noticed the faint dark orange glow from the setting sun. The sun was beginning to set a bit earlier now in September. 

She sighed. It must’ve been about nine o’clock then. 

“Yeah.” Bucky said. 

“I’ll get your coat.” her mother says. 

* 

Mr. Davidon clears his throat with a cough from where he’s sitting on his desk. 

Mr. Davidson was Stephanie and Bucky’s new teacher for this year. He was tall with dark hair and glasses and he was usually quiet or was off in the corner judging the class silently, he was an odd character to say the least. But he was also a mean character who like to send people outside of the class for the smallest reasons and smack the back of kids knuckles with his long wooden ruler that Stephanie has never seen him without. 

“James.” Mr. Davidson calls from his desk. Bucky’s head snaps up to look at him. 

They were currently doing silent reading right now. Stephanie didn’t mind it too much, although she did find it boring. She had never really taken to reading, and the short stories that the teacher would choose for them to read were always boring and about the exact same thing every time, they were so similar in nature that Stephanie swears that she can summarise this one in great detail without even having to finish it. 

Bucky did not like this subject, understandably. Bucky did somewhat enjoy reading when he wasn’t doing it in school. He had recently taken to those strange science fiction novels about flying automobiles and robot invasions. So, Bucky did love to learn, but the teachers were always rude and unfair and didn’t ever want to take the time to actually help children read, they just didn’t really like people who didn’t fit their mould. Stephanie especially knows what that feels like. 

Bucky seems to be very nervous right now, his eyes are wide and he’s fidgeting with his pencil in his right hand. 

“Your turn. Start where Sophie left off.” 

Bucky sheepishly picks up the printed sheet in front of him. He coughs to clear his throat “Okay. Um,” he begins, Stephanie can practically feel his nervousness “And he...he s-says to her that...um. Her god—dog, her um...dog, um...” Bucky struggles, he stammers as he brings the sheet up way close to his face as he squints his eyes to try and read better. Stephanie knew that Bucky didn’t like people making a big thing of it, but she –knowing what it was like to struggles with things when other people seem to do it effortlessly—couldn't help but feel sympathy. She imagined it would be difficult to focus if all the letters were jumping about on the page. 

She sees Bucky is about to continue but she cuts him off before he could open his mouth “I’ll read it.” 

Mr. Davidson sends her a very annoyed look, Stephanie knew that she was no teachers favourite, but Mr. Davidson just seemed to hate her specifically “Is your name James?” he barks. 

Stephanie can feel her face go red in embarrassment. 

“no, sir.” she mumbles. 

“So, then I was _James_ to read it.” he remarked. 

A few kids whisper and giggle, they’re not amazing at hiding it. 

When the class is once again silent, Mr. Davidson clears his throat “Go on.” he instructs, gesturing to Bucky –who currently looked like he was going though all five stages of grief at once. 

He gulps and continues “Says...says that they f-fond, I mean, found him at...at the um...” he squints so hard that he scrunches up his nose and his eyebrows furrow “pra...park.” 

Mr. Davidson was now standing in front of Bucky’s desk and one desk away from Stephanie. Bucky was still looking at the sheet, looking absolutely defeated. Mr. Davidson seemed to take advantage of this fact as he brought his big and long wooden ruler and smacks Bucky’s knuckles with it. Making a big cruel noise as Bucky flinched and immediately retracted both of his hands. 

Although it’s happened before. That doesn’t make Stephanie want to bash her teachers head in any less. 

“What the hell’s the matter with you, boy?! It’s a simple paragraph. I don’t know why you can’t follow simple instructions.” he snapped, he leaned forward slightly and leered down over Bucky like a vulture just waiting for the perfect moment to pick at the carnage. 

“I-I am following them!” Bucky defended. 

Mr. Davidson smacked his cracked lips together in explicit annoyance, making a loud and disapproving ‘pop’ sound “Clearly not very well.” he ribbed, in a cruel way like a bully would “Maybe you ought to have listened to your father when he was still around. Then maybe you wouldn’t be making this class so difficult for everyone else.” he jeered, but he didn’t seem so angry. It was almost as if he enjoyed bullying children. 

Stephanie saw red. 

She brings her skinny legs up onto the edge of the table. She applies force, and she pushes. 

The table comes crashing down to the grown with a loud bang. Several kids –including—Bucky turn their heads to look in Stephanie’s direction. Some are muttering in shocked whispers and multiple are trying to hide their giggle under their breath. Mr. Davidson is neither of those. 

\--Although the shocked whispers aren’t as shocked as they might be if it was Stephanie. She didn’t exactly have the cleanest reputation. 

Mr. Davidson’s face is so red with anger that he looks like he wants to rip his own head off. His face no longer presenting a faded smirk of cruel and unfair amusement, but rather one of pure unfiltered anger that Stephanie hasn’t really ever seen coming from a person that isn’t herself. Damn, she only kicked a table over. 

“What on earth?!” he fumes “What on earth’s the matter with you?! I want you outside.” he extends his long arm to angrily point to the door at the front of the classroom. Stephanie looks at the cheap singular wooden table that’s now lying in the floor. Stephanie is grateful that she was sat at the front of the classroom or else she might’ve hurt someone. 

She gets up and walks to the door. Just before she leaves, she hears his angry voice say “I will deal with you in a minute.” 

She stands outside the classroom with the door closed, she can vaguely hear noises coming from inside the classroom, but her poor hearing didn’t allow for her to catch a sound in better detail than just incoherent mutters. 

Rocking back and forth on her heels as her dress sways in motion, she spots the familiar figure of her principal, Principal Hadley just round the corner and. She spots Stephanie. 

“Why are you not in class?” she quires as she steps close to her, looming over Stephanie ominously. 

“Got sent out.” she answers tartly. She really doesn’t like Principal Hadley. She was always rude and always wanted things to only go her way. And she was the reason that Stephanie couldn’t wear what she wanted in the first place. She was the reason why Stephanie had to dress up like a girl. 

Principal Hadley tuts “Why am I not surprised.” she remarks sarcastically. Stephanie internally groans. She’s tired of being told how she’s allowed to act, especially when she’s _justified._ She probably would’ve tried to do much worse if she wasn’t in a class full of about twenty other children. 

“Huh?” she said. 

“What did you do this time?” she demanded. Stephanie felt immediate offence. Why would she assume that she started it, well, that was usually the case. But it still didn’t feel good to be labelled the troublemaker. 

“Nothin’.” she answers. 

Principal Hadley’s face gains a scowl and she scoffed “Speak like a lady! And answer my question.” she spat. 

She rolls her eyes “ _Nothing.”_ she reiterates. 

“Somehow I don’t believe that.” she grunts accusingly. 

Stephanie groans “Mr. Davidson was bein’ stupid-- I mean unfair.” 

She sighs “How was he being unfair?” 

“He hit Bucky! With a ruler! On the knuckles.” 

“And why did he do that?” she said, agitated 

“Because he was annoyed that Bucky was struggling...but just a little bit.” 

“Perhaps he ought to learn how to read, then.” 

“He can read!” 

“Don’t talk back to me, young lady.” 

“I’m not!” she protested “I just don’t know why he had to hit him though.” 

“I can’t believe I’m having this discussion with a little girl.” her eyes move to Stephanie’s chin length hair. The hair that was far too long and the hair that she hated. The hair that gave her such an uncertain and unexplainable feeling of anxiety whenever she would feel the strands against her face. She often finds herself flinching whenever it touches her neck “Your hair is almost at acceptable length.” she said as she squints and gives Stephanie a look, one of absolute scrutiny. Her heels are loud as they click against the hardwood floor. 

Stephanie grunts and kicks a stray pencil that someone had left on the floor. It rolls over to the other side of the hallway bounces off the wall. 

She sighs. She hates it here. 

“I can’t _believe_ you think that it’s acceptable to act like that in my class!” Mr. Davidson bellows as he slammed his hands loudly on the table that Stephanie was sitting at. She winces slightly, Mr. Davidson –when he wasn’t being silently passive aggressive—really loved to shout whenever someone did something he didn’t like. She had been frightened at first but now she was used to his unnecessary anger. 

School had ended about ten minutes ago, and her school wasn’t that long of a walk away from her house, so her mother would be wondering where she is soon. 

He takes his hands off the desk and stepped back at bit. Opting to cross his arms instead “I can’t say I'm surprised however. It’s not like this is the first time you’ve acted out in my class, Stephanie. You’re lucky I'm not taking this to the principal.” he spits, like he’s doing her a favour. He smacks his lips “You’ve --let’s see.” he starts “You’ve given Margret Dunn a black eye, you’ve vandalised school property, you’ve started more fights than I can count, you’ve violated dress code, you’ve knocked Joseph’s two front teeth out--” he lists. 

“He was pickin’ on other kids!” she cuts in. 

“So, you thought it was appropriate to retaliate with your own violence?” 

“That’s different--” 

He raises on eyebrow “Is it?” he questions, although Stephanie guesses that he didn’t really mean it as a question, and more of a statement. 

Stephanie doesn’t agree with that. She was _helping_ that smaller kid that was being picked on. Just because she hit first didn’t mean she started it! It was completely different. 

“ _Yes_ , it’s different!” she answers anyway. 

Mr. Davidson did not like that “I’m not asking. I’m telling.” 

She groans heavily. That seemed to be his catchphrase whenever he was giving Stephanie an unfair punishment. 

Mr. Davidon’s eyebrows furrowed in an angry expression “Don’t give me that attitude. Do you talk to your mother like that? No, so don’t bring that kind of behaviour here.” he scolds. Stephanie rolls her eyes. She just wants to go home. 

He sighed heavily and took his glasses off and put them in his shirt pocket “I’m going to give you your _final_ warning. But if I hear _one_ more peep out of you. I’m sending you straight to the Principal. And I won’t protest whatever she decides to do, understand?” 

She doesn’t “Yeah. I understand.” 

“Good. Now go home.” 

Stephanie walks down the main steps of the school. She pushes her loose glasses back up. She looks up and sees a familiar boy standing by the gate. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” he said as she approached him. 

She gave Bucky a very confused look. What was he talking about? Of course she had to “What? Yeah I did.” she puzzles. 

“But you got in trouble. You shouldn’t’ve!” Bucky exclaimed. 

“I had to, though.” 

“No, you didn’t, though.” 

“Yeah I did! ‘Cause Mr. Davidson’s a damn bully! He was hurtin’ you!” she exclaims. How did Bucky not get it? 

Bucky sighs “Yeah, but it’s not the first time. ‘Sides, I wasn’t the only one. Have you seen Tommy’s hands?” he asks. And Stephanie does remember seeing glimpses of Tommy’s hands. Mr. Davidson didn’t like him at all either, neither did many of the other kids. He would sit in the corner and hit himself sometimes and make weird noises so he didn’t have many friends. But Stephanie thought he was very nice and he even liked to draw as well. Twitchy Tommy, the other kids called him. 

“And I’d do the same for him if I saw it!” Bucky sends Stephanie The Look “But _Bucky._ You know I had to...for you.” she laments. It wasn’t just Stephanie that needed help sometimes 

“I know, but--” 

“You’re always helpin’ me. So why can’t I help you. I don’t like bein’ babied either.” 

“I don’t _baby_ you. You just need help sometimes! ‘N that’s fine.” 

“So, do you!” Bucky was silent for a moment. 

“But I don’t flip over tables though.” he said. 

Stephanie sighs “Still.” 

Bucky also sighs “Let’s go home.” 

* 

_This food is pretty nice._ Stephanie thinks as she chews on another bit of her mother’s homemade macaroni, she usually makes it differently to this. But she thinks this one is way nice, it’s a lot less chewy. 

A question that Stephanie has been pondering for a while suddenly comes to her mind. Well not _suddenly,_ she had been wondering about this for a while. But she just hadn’t found the right time to ask. But now that she can’t get it off her mind, she feels like she has to ask “Bucky?” she asks. 

“Mm?” he answers after he swallows his own food. 

“I have...” she pauses “...kind of...weird question.” 

“Ok. Go.” bucky aid without hesitation. 

She gulps “No, I mean like, it’s really weird.” 

“Bet I've heard weirder.” 

“Bet you haven’t.” 

“Well what is it then?” 

She takes a deep breath "I'm...okay, uh...What would you do if I was a boy?” she says very quickly as she gazes at her fork like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. 

Bucky snorts "What?” 

“No, I mean like...D’you think it would be different if I was a boy.” 

“Oh. Well, uh. You’re basically a boy, I think.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I mean, ‘s not a bad thing! Just...” 

“Just what?” 

“I dunno. I’ve just never seen a girl like you. ‘A mean it as a good thing.” 

“Is it? People don’t tend to think ‘a me as...good.” 

“I dunno. Maybe you’re just a tomboy.” 

“Ain’t a tomboy.” she pauses, feeling odd “I’m just not.” 

“Okay.” Bucky said. He looks like he wants to say something but he doesn’t “Can you pass my drink?” 

“Yeah, here you go.” She passes his drink. 

As Bucky reaches his hand out to take the drink, Stephanie notices a strange colour to Bucky’s knuckles, they’re probably bruises on Bucky’s knuckles from where the teacher would smack his wooden ruler on the end of Bucky’s knuckles when he struggled reading aloud. 

“Are you okay?” she asks with concern. 

“Um. Yeah. I’m fine.” he shrugs it off “Are _you_ okay? You should see your arm!” Bucky counters, pointing to Stephanie’s right arm where a deep and now clean gash and a collection on bruises are sitting on her arm with the fork in his hand. 

She glanced down at her arm. Okay it wasn’t _that_ bad. Yeah it hurt like hell, and yeah, she cried. But it honestly wasn’t a big deal. She’s had worse. 

“Yeah. ‘M fine.” she confirms. 

Bucky gives her a look like she’s just groan three extra heads “Hell you mean your ‘ _fine’?_ Your arm’s all bashed up!” 

She shrugs as she puts some more food in her mouth “‘S honestly not a big deal, Bucky. I’ve had worse.” 

“It don’t matter if you’ve had worse! You’re still hurt!” 

She rolls her eyes “It’s _fine_ Bucky. He didn’t even bite me this time.” she said as she recalled when a few weeks ago from when Billy Burton sank his teeth into her arm after she hit him on the nose. It hurt more when it was healing honestly, there’s still a vague red circle on her right arm, and it honestly doesn’t look like it’s getting much better. But her mother said she didn’t have an infection, so it must be fine. 

“Bare minimum.” Bucky mumbles into his drink. He sighs as his eyes looked to the faded bruises on her knuckles “...Did you get in another fight?” he questions, but Stephanie can guess from his tone that he isn’t really asking. 

“...Yeah.” she admits. 

“Jesus, Steph!” Bucky fumed, his knife and fork dropping to the plate with a jarring noise as he drops them.” 

“What?” Stephanie asks ignorantly. 

“You can’t just—have you ever heard of bein’ _careful?_ Stupid.” Bucky shot back. 

Stephane groans “‘S not a big deal. You’re overreactin’.” 

“You gettin’ injured every day _is_ a big deal.” 

She groans “You’re not my mom! You can’t tell me what to do.” 

Bucky sighs “Why are you bein’ difficult. You don’t even listen to her anyways.” Bucky shot back. 

Stephanie doesn’t disagree, it is true. But that’s because no one _listens_ to her, no one lives inside her head every day. 

“Look, ‘m sorry. But I can’t jus’ stop.” 

Bucky sighs again “I know you can’t, I just want you to be careful. ‘Cause I don’t want you to, like, get sent into a coma or somethin’.” 

Stephanie giggles “No way I’m not!” 

“I’m serious! What if you, like, get hit really hard. ‘N you fall asleep for a hundred years! Then I won’t have a best pal anymore!” Bucky exclaims. 

She laughs again, feeling the tension in her gut lessen slightly “Pfft, that’s not gonna happen, that’s stupid.” 

“It might.” 

“Won’t.” 

“Might.” 

“Shut up, punk.” Bucky says as he chucks a piece of macaroni at Stephanie. 

“ _Ew_ _!”_ she recoils. 

Things were usually bad as of late, but sometimes, things were still good. 

* 

“Heya Steph.” Bucky greets. 

“Hey.” 

“What’re ya drawin’?” Bucky asks. 

“Nothin’.” Stephanie moves her drawing pad away from Bucky’s curious eyes. 

On the newest piece of paper in her cheap drawing pad is a neat and careful sketch. The graphite of her sharp pencil carefully drawn across the page. Her sketch shows a drawing that she can’t quite figure out, and she’s not quite sure where it came from. It’s a sketch of a boy. The boy is small and skinny with short messy blond hair and blue eyes that he apparently can’t seem to fit behind his ear properly, can’t seem to fit in at all. 

It reminds Stephanie of herself a little bit. And she likes it, it feels like a reflection of some particular forbidden thoughts that she traps at the back of her mind, never to think about or address later. 

“Aw, c’mon!” Bucky urged. Shoving himself right next to Stephanie from where she’s sitting. 

Bucky was nosey. Stephanie knew this. And he could be pushy sometimes. If she could pick one negative thing about Bucky it would be that, and her mind can’t seem to find anything else, well there’s no surprises there. 

“No! ‘S mine!” she huffed as she tried to move her sketch pad away from him. 

“C’mon! I won’t judge!” Bucky claimed as he swiped it from Stephanie’s hand playfully. 

The pad now free from her hands, she attempts to lean over and snatch it back. But Bucky moves it to where Stephanie can’t reach. 

“C’mon, Buck! Give it back!” 

“Don’t be shy! I wanna see!” Bucky said as he stared at the piece in his hands. 

He stops. 

“What?” Stephanie asks. Did he think it was bad? 

“ _Woah.”_ Bucky marvels “This is...really good.” he compliments. Stephanie now feels a massive wave of embarrassment wash over her. She can feel her face turn as red as a tomato. 

“Hey, this kinda looks like you.” Bucky says suddenly. 

Stephanie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. She never had that intention when she was drawing him—the boy. 

She moves closer to Bucky so she can see the drawing. And upon looking at her drawing she does see it now. The small and skinny frame, the blue eyes and blonde hair, the few bruises, and that seemingly permanent annoyed look. That was her...but it wouldn’t. 

It partially reminds her of that boy she would dream about sometimes—Grant. The person she was in those dreams she didn’t like to think about. 

It also looks like how she did from a while ago. When she had short hair and when she was allowed to wear boy’s clothes. And before the school made her grow her hair out and wear skirts again. Before they made her _girly_ again. 

Before then, she was happy. She was comfortable. She realises that she hasn’t felt comfortable since. 

“Yeah, I guess I didn’t-- y’know I didn’t draw him like that, uh, the boy, I mean.” she stammers nervously. Because she never met for the drawing to look like that, but now that she’s staring at it, she can’t look past it. 

“It looks like how you used to, you used to look like a boy then.” Bucky giggles the last part of that sentence, but he doesn’t realise how much it stings. 

“Haha, yeah.” she fakes a laugh and she takes the pad back and folds it over so the drawing is now out of sight, out of mind...until she thinks about it for hours on end later. 

She hugs her drawing pad to her chest, she feels tired. 

She draws more of the boy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not too proud of this one lads, but i think it was the bet i could do given the circumstances
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> -gender dysphoria  
> -references to abuse  
> -abuse  
> -ableism  
> -mild depression
> 
> i yell about steve being trans on my [tumblr](https://wormdefultapeworm.tumblr.com) come join me


	5. 1929

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg i'm so sorry this took so long the next one won't take a month and a half i promise, a lot of things got in the way and it ended up being waaaaay longer than i planned (almost 19k words,,, my draft was 10k oof) but i hope the length makes up for my absence lol
> 
> also like? today was black thursday if this was 1929, good timing? 
> 
> also i apologise if the editing isn't stellar right now, it's a really long chapter so i apologise if i miss anything.
> 
> **trigger warnings in the end notes

Recently...things have been different. Not too different. But some things will just always be noticeable. 

Like how recently, when Stephanie wasn’t looking. She’s noticed a few things, new things. 

One of them would be how tall Bucky was getting recently and how much different his voice seemed lately. Not like that was anything radically new or anything. Bucky had always been taller than her and had always had a deeper voice than her, but Stephanie has been noticing that meanwhile her voice stays relatively the same and she seems to be growing in other places instead of vertically like her best friend is. It’s weird, for them to be changing so differently. 

It almost feels like she has another illness, in a certain way. The body is changing in strange ways and shaping her body weirdly and grotesquely into a strange form that she doesn’t like. It feels almost as if every day she wakes up and her appearance is beginning to look more and more like someone she doesn’t recognise. The girl with the messy chin length hair and boulder-sized chip on her shoulder looking back at her isn’t her. She doesn’t know how she’d explain it to another person who wasn’t in her head. She doesn't know how she’d make it sound sane. 

When she was younger, she felt the same. She had always felt sort of...disconnected from the rest of the world. Almost like there was some invisible barrier that screamed _‘YOU DON’T BELONG HERE’_ unprompted, at everything all the time. But she almost never told why, she just felt like she wasn’t allowed to simply...be. 

She had always had this vague sense of not belonging, and not being allowed to belong. And she thought that when she got older, she’d be normal. But that doesn’t seem to be the case. 

If anything, she only feels _more_ alienated, and more uncomfortable. 

She had never really liked her looks much, it’s not that she ever thought herself ugly. She had never really paid attention to such things before. But she can’t exactly say she’s happy with what she sees in the mirror. 

Everything is becoming all wrong. It feels like with every passing day she’s staying farther and farther away from herself, she feels like she’s being pulled by something evil and foreign into some unknown void that she can’t quite make out. 

She hates the passage of time in a way. If time simply stilled then she wouldn’t have to deal with the way her body is changing, and the confusion that comes with it. 

She had heard about puberty before, obviously, and she knew that her body would begin to change in ways she wouldn’t be used to. But this is nothing like she had expected it to be like. She wasn’t... she wasn’t sure why her best friend had shot up 4 inches over the spring and why she hadn’t. 

The other boys in her year were all growing at different times and speeds, like she had been told they would. But it’s been a few months and she hasn’t experienced one voice crack or even the smallest patch of fuzz on her forearms like everyone else yet. 

But she will at some point, right? That has to be it, maybe that would explain why she’s so odd...it’s just...delayed or whatever, she’ll surely get tall and her voice will start cracking in due time, she just has to give it a while. Then she’ll be normal right? No-one would complain about her shorts or broken nose, she’d get to do what she wants. 

Yeah...that’s it, definitely. 

* 

Stephanie drew in a breath sharply, the young girl rubs her forearms to generate heat, her thin overcoat didn’t prove to be so affective against the almost-blizzard that had hit this February. It had been cold like no other this month, ever since October-ish of last year had been incredibly freezing, Christmas had been spent inside gazing at the snowflakes falling from the clouds above from the safety of the living room window. She had been especially sick then, and the redness still present on her nose and cheeks makes her think that maybe she should’ve stayed home today like her mother instructed. 

“Hm?” Bucky hummed “You okay?” he asked, his bright blue eyes peering from under his hat, his pink lips turned chapped and rosy-red from the heat, he was lucky that was all he was getting from the cold. 

Stephanie’s teeth chattered together, creating a particularly annoying noise from within her mouth “Y-Yeah.” she managed to get out “‘M fine, j-just a little bit c-cold is all.” she stammered, she squinted her eyes to try and lessen the feeling that her eyes were freezing her eyes over. Ever since her glasses broke her face had felt sort of naked without them. 

Their footsteps crunched against the thin layer of snow on the pavement. Bucky’s especially loud ever since he had shot up four inches in the winter and required new, heavier shoes. 

Bucky looked at her incredibly unconvinced “You’re shivering.” he pointed out blankly. 

Stephanie pouted “I-I know.” the inside of her mouth felt horrible, it felt like a cold dessert, completely cold and absent of moisture. Like that awkward taste on your tongue after just waking up from a nap. It made her just want to be home as soon as possible. 

Bucky took his un-gloved hand out of his pocket and pressed it against Stephanie’s forehead “Jesus! You’re roasting!” he remarked, startled. Stephanie found that odd, she doesn’t feel very hot. 

Her best friend on her left started removing his scarf “Bucky no.” she said, she didn’t like it when Bucky always did things for her, even if she was ‘ _really sick, Stevie_ .’ and ‘ _had a broken nose_.’ or whatever it was. She didn’t need to be babied, she believed she truly didn’t need taken care of in the way that her mom and Bucky thought. She’s not a baby anymore. 

“Yes.” Bucky defied, scarf firmly in hand as he gazed down at her with a disapproving look. They had stopped walking at this point and she felt a shiver up her legs. 

“Buck, it’s your scarf, I don’t need it.” 

“Yes, you do! You’re freezing!” Stephanie could see Bucky’s breath when he talked. 

She looked at the scarf, old and fixed with a patch job she could remember her and Bucky doing when they were about nine, judging by the holes in it, it really needed some work done. 

“Bucky I-I'm _fine._ ” her teeth chattered once more. 

“See! You’re not.” 

“I _am._ I don’t need your scarf Bucky.” 

Bucky looked slightly hurt for a moment before he smiled in a way that Stephanie only recognised when they were about to do something that would get them in trouble “I’ll tell on you if you don’t.” 

“Don’t.” Stephanie warned. 

“I will if you don’t wear the scarf.” he pressed. 

“But what if you need it?” she countered, her toes felt cold within her thin shoes. 

Bucky raised an eyebrow, he hadn’t been able to stop doing that once he learned how to a couple of months ago –Stephanie would be lying if she said it didn’t make her smile at least a little bit— “I’ll be fine, I'm not chronically ill like you.” 

Her shoulders sunk “You don’t have to go there.” 

“I will if you don’t wear the scarf.” 

Stephanie could see her breath in the cold air when she let out a hefty sigh “Fine then.” she gave in. 

“Yes!” Bucky cheered under his breath as he took the ends of the battered scarf and wrapped it around Stephanie thin neck. She felt warmth as the fabric graced her ears. 

“Better?” 

“I guess.” 

“I told you so!” Bucky marvelled with a knowing smile “C’mon we gotta get home.” Bucky said as he took her hand. Her small hand was filled with warmth as her fingers became intertwined with Bucky’s much larger ones. 

As she settled into the itchy but warm fabric of this old scarf, she decided she wasn’t giving it back. Not that she’d tell Bucky, though. 

* 

Stephanie runs towards the big chain-link fence. She stops momentarily before she grabs onto the wire on the fence. She climbs up it as fast as she can, she can see Bucky idly waiting on the ground beneath her in the corner of her eye. She reaches the top and throws his legs over the side. 

She tries to let himself down carefully but her hand slips and her heart sinks as she feels himself fall to the ground. 

“C’mon Stevie!” Bucky yells from the ground below her “I’ll catch you!” Bucky hold his arms out like some knight in shining armour ready to catch the damsel in destress. 

She groans, she’s not a princess. She can do it herself. 

She drops from the fence, but instead of landing in her best friend’s arms she landed on top of him, causing both of the children to go crashing to the ground. 

Immediately Stephanie feels pain in back as she awkwardly lands on a pile of trash, as she adjusts herself to a sitting position, she sees that she’s torn the ends of her dress. 

Standing up, she notices that her best friend is instead lying on the ground with one hand clutching his arm. 

“Buck?!” Stephanie calls “Are you okay?!” she said as she steps over trash to get to her friend. 

Bucky’s face was like something she had never seen before, his eyes were the size of golf balls and his mouth was stretched open like he was screaming but no sound was coming out. He looked to be in immense pain. 

Almost like he was in shock— 

Oh God. 

“Bucky!” she shouted as she crouched down. 

Upon further inspection Bucky’s trembling right arm was clutched over his left arm which had an odd lump halfway down his forearm, it was a very strange red colour. 

“Oh my God is it broken—fuck.” 

She gently shakes Bucky’s right forearm “Bucky.” 

Her arm accidentally graces against Bucky’s left arm and he immediately shoots up and yelps and screams unlike Stephanie’s ever heard before. 

“AAAAAAAAAAAH!” he screams in pain, and it was loud enough to cause the birds which were perched on a nearby roof to fly away. 

“AH--I—OW—it hurts!” “I-It hurts—I’m-- OW!” he cries. 

“Shit!” “Bucky look at me!” “You’re okay, you’re alright.” 

“AH,” he inhales sharply “I-It hurts—!” 

“I-It’s gonna be fine, we just gotta—” she tries to move him but Bucky just flinches in pain. 

“Wh--What did I do?!” he forces out in a worry.” 

“I-- I dunno, you just fell—” “It’s okay, Bucky we just gotta—” 

He flinches. 

“Okay, I’m gonna help you up.” 

She lifts Bucky up and gets him under Stephanie’s arm. 

“C’mon Buck.” 

The road seems to be bumpy today as Stephanie’s body shifts lightly as the driver swerves round the corner. Stephanie hadn’t managed to calm down yet, she had to drag Bucky all the way back to her house to get her mother so she could call a taxi to get Bucky to the hospital, maybe not the most effective decision she could've made but she was running on pure adrenaline, and she’s still a bit irritable now, it was hard not to when your best friend was sat next to you with a potentially broken arm. 

Said best friend was now clutching the wet cloth that he held on his left forearm “Stevie...” Bucky moaned in a pained voice, it sounded as though he was fighting to stay awake but his eyes showed he was completely wide awake. 

“Yeah?” Stephanie asked. 

“It hurts.” Bucky whined; the pained sound of his voice tested Stephanie’s ability to hold in her tears. 

She clenches her jaw “I know it does, Bucky. But you’re gonna be fine, Okay?” She scratches her brain for what Bucky does when Stephanie’s in this situation. She brings Bucky’s head to lay on her shoulder, careful and gentle hands lower Bucky’s head to rest softly on her chest “C’mon Buck.” 

Bucky sank into her comfortably and she felt his breath on her chest “I-It’s gonna be okay, Bucky.” she consoled, her arm over the back of his head. 

Stephanie’s mother turned around from the front seat “How’s he doing?” she asked, eyebrows furrowed and concerned. 

“He-- He’s been better.” she joked “He’s a little out of it but he’s okay—I think.” she answered frantically. 

Her mother nodded quickly. 

Stephanie just prayed that they would get there soon. 

Taking the seat next to the bed, Stephanie sits down and looks into her friend who was laying down in the bed with a hospital gown and a bandage on his arm. It’s now that she’s hit with an immense sense of irony, she realises now that she’s seeing things from Bucky’s perspective. It fills her with a weird feeling that’s too similar to guilt for her to be comfortable with. 

Bucky smiled “Hey, punk.” he greeted. 

Stephanie tried to smile back, although she’s sure it must’ve come off as at least a little bit strained “H-Hey, jerk.” she greeted back. 

She looks down at her friend who’s left arm was now encased in a sling 

“What are they givin’ you?” 

“Morphine, I think.” “This ain’t usually how it goes right?” 

“Hm?” 

“Y’know, usually I'm the one in that chair.” 

“Oh...yeah.” “I’m so sorry, Bucky. I—” 

“It’s fine, Steph don’t worry about it.” 

“No, really, Bucky. I—” 

Bucky waves his hand in a ‘don’t worry about it’ manner “It’s fine, I ain’t never been in a hospital bed before, so there’s a first time for everything!” 

She snorts “But really, are you okay?” 

“I mean, yeah. Hurts a little—well I mean a lot, but I'll live.” 

“Aw.” 

“Shut up, I mean, at least I haven’t lost it.” 

“True.” 

“The doctor said I have to be in here for a couple ‘a days, for it to heal. ‘N then I'll be released and I get to go home. Then I have to keep wearing this stupid cast for a few weeks still.” 

“I can write my name on it!” 

“Nice!” 

“And I won’t just draw a huge dick on it, unlike someone.” 

“Hey, come on! That was a joke!” 

“Yeah and _I_ got in trouble! And you never even apologised for that.” 

“Okay I’m sorry.” he apologised with a smile. 

“That’s better.” 

“Do we got pencils in here?” 

“Uh, maybe check the drawers.” 

“There we go.” 

Stephanie leans over the side of Bucky’s hospital bed and takes 

She writes _‘Stevie ♥’_

“There.” she says with a smile. Bucky smiles back. 

She turns her head to look at the door which was creaking open, there she sees a nurse standing there with a clipboard “Oh, hello.” she greets, looking at Stephanie, she appears slightly startled, as if she didn’t expect to see her there “Is it okay if we have a little privacy? James needs an examination.” 

“Oh, okay, Bye, Bucky.” 

“Bye, Steph!” 

Walking outside the room they’re keeping Bucky in and shutting the door, Stephanie’s greeted with a particular Mrs. Barnes. 

Stephanie immediately feels a mild sense of worry, oh God, she might get really angry and blame it all on Stephanie, or maybe she’ll say that she’ll have to stop being Bucky’s friend, what if they never see each other again— 

“Are you alright?” she asks instead. 

“Huh? Yeah, I'm fine.” Stephanie answers, caught off guard. 

“I’m not mad if that’s what you’re wondering.” 

“Y-You’re not?” she echoes. 

“Nope, I just hope it’s not too damaged. Did you see him already?” 

“Yeah, um, I think he’s fine. I, I signed his cast and um, he’s on morphine right now so, but there’s a nurse in there with him right now.” 

“Oh, okay.” she crosses her arms “How did it happen?” 

“Well, um. We were—I was, running from some uh, bullies. And Bucky was with me, and we had to jump over a fence, and Bucky...didn’t land so good.” “It’s my fault.” 

“It’s alright, and it’s not your fault by the way.” 

“But--” 

“It’s fine, I've had to clean up countless scabs from before you two even knew each other, I know he’ll be fine.” 

“Oh, okay. Um, thanks.” 

“It’s no bother, your mother is waiting outside for you just now. She’s gonna take you home.” 

“Oh okay, so I'll get going then?” Bye, Mrs. Barnes.” 

* 

Stephanie’s face is staring back at her from the grimy bathroom mirror. 

Or well, the face she knows to be hers. The girl that stares back at her on reflective surfaces, it’s not...well it’s never really been her, but it’s more attached to her by association. She just can’t escape it, but it feels like every day she’s recognising ‘her’ face less and less. It’s distressing in a way, like she’s a puppeteer to a marionette. 

Her eye catches something sharp on the sink. 

A pair of scissors. 

They’re the standard scissors that is given in class for activities. 

Stephanie feels how uncomfortable her dress is around her, she looks at the loose piece of cloth that hangs until it reaches her misshapen and scarred and bruised knees. She hates how it makes her feel and she hates how she’s supposed to dress that way, conservatively and modestly. It doesn’t fit her at all. 

She takes a handful of her skirt in her hands and picks up the scissors with the other. 

She could...no she couldn’t. She’d get in so much trouble if she did. 

But there’s this weird sort of voice in the back of her head, urging her and encouraging her. Daring her. 

She puts the blades of the scissors around the itchy fabric of her dress. 

She takes a deep breath. 

_Fuck it._ She decides. 

Tensing her small hands around the grip of the scissors. She squeezes. 

And she cuts. 

She opens her eyes as the now loose piece of fabric falls to the grimy bathroom floor. 

Her chest feels light but also heavy, her accelerating heart only beats louder and louder in her ear and harder and harder in her chest. Throbbing against her fragile ribcage. 

It feels...exciting. She can feel the beginnings of an adrenaline rush creep through her veins. 

An inkling of self-awareness exists at the back of her head, shouting at her and begging her to stop, and that it was wrong and a bad idea. 

Well, she knows it’s wrong. 

But she doesn't much care at the moment. 

She takes another handful of fabric into her hand and she snips again. 

She cuts and cuts and cuts again, until her once-a-dress is now nothing more than ragged and torn at the bottom. Frayed and jagged lines marking where she tore it apart with scissors. 

The loose pieces of fabric lay peacefully on the floor and her now cut pieces of hair lay in a pile in the grimy old sink of her school bathroom. 

She stares at the slightly unclean mirror opposite her. She looks at her finally-once-again short hair that dawns her head. It’s jagged and messy and unclean, it looks like she had just come at it with sheers. 

The uneven ends of her short hair frame her face in such a way that nothing ever has in a long while. 

She remembers a few years ago...a little while after The Great Broken Window Incident Of ‘26, how Bucky had let her wear his clothes. And for a brief while she had got to live in such a way which she desired, in such a way that she didn’t feel uncomfortable or out of place for once. She wasn’t, and still isn’t, entirely sure how she’d describe the feeling. But it was something akin for finally eating food after starving for so many years, finally drinking water after being dehydrated, finally feeling warmth after millennials of cold. 

Whatever the feeling might’ve been it didn’t even feel strange or out of place at all, it was something that just felt so inherently _right_ that she felt like all her reasoning as a person had vanished when it had been stripped away from her –she still remembers when Principal Hadley had forbade her to wear dresses again at school. 

And up until now she had forgotten what great of a feeling that was. She felt like she had finally been seen, she was so happy, so _euphoric._ But she wasn’t allowed to feel it again. 

She hadn't recognised the person staring back at her for a very long time. But now as she stares into her blue eyes in the mirror and gazes upon the short blonde jagged and messy locks which exist upon her head, she thinks she might be seeing herself again...finally. 

More than she had in a long time...the grotesque ways in which her body is morphing in ways which she didn’t want had been making her feel sick to her stomach lately whenever she looked for a little too long. She felt like she was living the life of another person while she has to deal with the fallout. 

She hasn’t worn boy’s clothes in a while, _her_ clothes as far as she’s concerned, maybe she can convince her mother to spare the extra penny again. She doesn’t think she fits those old suspender shorts anymore. 

Stephanie fixes her hair briefly in the mirror, she sweeps one side behind her ear and keeps one part as a fringe that ends just before her eyes, just like she used to do. 

It might be sad that this is the first time she’s thought ‘ _Oh, there you are’_ in a long time. But it feels freeing at least. 

Inhaling the unclean smell of the rank grime covered bathroom she notices the mess she’s made; she reaches down to the floor to pick up the discarded pieces of her ruined dress. 

As she collects a few in her hands she hears a noise to her left. She turns her head in said direction to see the figure of no other than Principal Hadley lurking in the doorway. 

Immediately all of Stephanie’s previous flame of positive intensity burns out in that moment. 

“What on earth are you doing?” Principal Hadley’s tone is sharp and cuts through the stiff air like a knife. 

Stephanie’s heart drops to her stomach. 

_Oh no._

She stumbles to pick everything but fumbles miserable and the scissors end up falling to the ground with a loud clattering noise and Stephanie flinches and backs away from it. 

“I, I—um. I was just, uh.” Stephanie’s mind doesn’t come up with excuses fast enough to explain what on earth she was doing, because honestly, she doesn’t really know herself, she can feel her face turning red in embarrassment. 

Principal Hadley crooks one brow upwards “Just what?” she echoes, inciting Stephanie to continue. 

“Um. Well, you see—I was just—” before Stephanie could finish Principal reaches forward and grabs Stephanie’s small arm so tightly that she could feel her nails digging into her skin. 

“That’s what I thought.” Principal Hadley reacts with a scowl as she drags the young girl to the door, Stephanie’s feet stumble as she tries to keep up. 

“OW!” she yells out in pain as she tries to free her arm from the Principal’s vice like grip from her thin and fragile forearm. 

Principal Hadley shoves the bathroom door open and begins to power walk to wherever Stephanie was being dragged to, presumably her office. 

“I’ve told you this, I’ve told your mother this.” she begins with an audible scowl on her face, it was prominent that it affected the elderly woman’s tone “I’ve told you that you can’t just do things like this.” her heels clack loudly against the marble flooring, Stephanie’s lungs strain as she tries to keep her breath, her asthma-- 

“I’ve told you this, time and time again. And yet, this happens. I think you oughtta get your head checked, young lady.” she spits, her words sting like venom. Like they were personally crafted just to attack Stephanie. There's something about the tone she doesn’t like, she doesn’t like the words either. It’s certainly not the first time she’s been told she’s sick in the head, by an adult no less, but there’s something extra special about this time that makes her feel like she’s being dragged naked through a stadium for everyone to point and laugh at. To point and laugh at the freak Stephanie Rogers. 

“That’s not—” Stephanie tries to defend herself but is once again cut off by the snake in human skin. 

“Silence!” she spat and shoved open another set of doors, Stephanie can see a few passing students and teachers look at her oddly, but not in shock. Because this wasn’t an entirely unusual occasional with her, she doesn’t really know why, or she just doesn’t know the words to describe it. Maybe if she knew how to be normal, she would, but she feels like she doesn’t even have the energy to try. 

It’s not like people expect much of her anyway. 

Stephanie is now sitting in the waiting room outside Principal Hadley’s office clutching a small damp cloth to her forearm, apparently Principal Hadley’s claw-like nails had drawn blood from her arm, and she hadn't even apologised for it. 

It’s not that she’s surprised though, Principal Hadley had seemed to always have some sort of grudge against Stephanie for no explainable reason, so it’s not like she was expecting the Principal to get down on her knees and plead for forgiveness, but it still would’ve been _nice,_ Stephanie scoffs as she recalls the numerous times where she had to apologise for things she didn’t even do. It’s not like she _started_ that fight last week, he really did hit first that one time! 

But Stephanie doesn’t really blame her, she’s...a little bit self-aware. She knows how much of a handful she can be sometimes. 

Why does she just have to...fail, at being a girl so much? It seems to be completely manageable by every other girl her age, even Molly seems to manage it. So why can’t she? 

Her eyes rise from the plain non-tattered dress that they had put her in—her old one rubbished and discarded—to look at the door to the Principal’s office which was placed a few feet away from her, she can hear a few noises which sound vaguely like talking. 

She knows she shouldn’t eavesdrop, but they’re probably talking about her right? So, she probably has a right to...listen in a little. 

The young girl squints in attempt to hear her mother and Principal Hadley’s conversation. 

“ _\--is completely reckless behaviour--”_

_“She’s a child.”_

_“She is eleven years old she should know by now--”_

_“--you can’t blame her when--”_

_“--told her time and time again, and she just won’t listen--”_

_“Well perhaps you’re being too harsh--?”_

_“--not my job to raise your child, you should be teaching her proper values--”_

_“How is an_ _eleven-year-old_ _going to understand--”_

_“Don’t talk to me like that in my office--”_

_“--the_ _effects_ _of what she’s doing, she’s not harming anyone--”_

_“--needs to get her head checked--”_

Before Stephanie can hear the rest of their conversation, she hears the door open, she quickly slouches back down in her chair like she had been doing before as to not raise suspicion. 

She sees two figures emerge from the Devils Cage, well really it was just the office, but that was what she and Bucky liked to call it. It was a pretty accurate name if she does say so herself, but her mother told her not to say that word. 

One figure is of her unhappy looking mother and the other one is of the permanently annoyed Principal Hadley, her angry wrinkles make her look like she’s constantly in a bad state, maybe that’s why she’s so wrinkly. 

Stephanie’s mother crouches down on the ground next to her child, she puts a soft but firm hand on her shoulder. 

“Hey.” she says in a very soothing tone, one she hasn’t used in a while. Almost as if Stephanie’s five years old again and got her first gash on her knee because she had been playing tag with the rough boys from across the street, her mother had coddled her for hours after it because Stephanie simply couldn’t stop crying... honestly, she would kill to be coddled like that again right now. 

“hi.” she responds in a hoarse voice for no reason at all, definitely not because she had been crying earlier. Definitely not. She was supposed to be growing up now, crying was for babies. 

Her mother looked like she wanted to say something else but she was interrupted by Principal Hadley—Jesus, does that woman ever shut up? “You’re suspended for a week.” she informs in a blank-but-clearly-still-annoyed tone of voice. 

If this was any other time Stephanie would probably be outraged and throw a fit and everything, but she’s just...tired, she slowly nods her head and looks back down at her knees in defeat. 

“I want a yes.” Principal Hadley demands, clearly not satisfied. 

Stephanie huffs “Okay--yes.” she mumbles. 

“I suppose that’s the best I'm going to get.” she huffs and checks her watch on her right wrist “You’re free to go, I'll have James deliver you the work.” 

Stephanie nods and now she feels bad that she’s going to have to make Bucky deliver her work when he already does so much for her. 

“C’mon darlin’, let’s go home.” her mother says as she eases her up from the uncomfortable wooden chair. 

“Thank you for understanding.” her mother says in a tone that definitely wasn’t genuine as they exit the office. 

Stephanie has an uncomfortable feeling loom over her as she exits the school building. 

Why can’t she just be normal? 

Stephanie’s feet ache in her cheap shoes that are barely protecting her from the hard concrete of the rough Brooklyn streets. She’s been due a new pair for a while now as her current ones are now on the verge of forming small shoes at the front, but it was at least seventy-five cents for even a good cheap pair of new shoes, and her mother already worked so hard just to keep themselves afloat. So, she isn’t about to complain to her. 

“You alright darlin’?” her mother asked. 

“Yeah.” she grunted out. 

Her mother looked at her like she had grown three heads “Don’t lie to me, especially not after what happened today.” she said firmly, although it wasn’t meant to be in an insulting way, she’d never, but Stephanie still felt the guilt sting in her veins. It certainly hadn’t been the worst thing she’s ever done, but she feels this strange sense of remorse that she hasn’t yet. Well, the bullies she’s been smashed around by _deserved_ it. But now she’s gone and ruined the dress her mother fought tooth and nail to be able to afford. 

It’s not even just that, it was...bad, objectionable. She can’t be walking around with short hair anymore, not since her body had been twisting itself into some vaguely womanly shape. She couldn’t...it just wasn’t allowed; she should know better now. She should be able to hold back those unspeakable urges, she’s not a little kid anymore. She’s supposed to be a big girl now, she knows that. 

It doesn’t matter if she can’t stand looking like she plays with dolls and has fun braiding girl's hair, lots of girls wanted to look like boys...right? Surely, it’s completely normal, so she shouldn’t have an excuse. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” she breathed. 

“I know.” her mother replied neutrally with a hand on Stephanie’s shoulder, her bad legs had been getting worse lately, but she shouldn't need help. She’s not a baby, but she can’t say it doesn’t take some of the physical tension off. 

Stephanie felt even more guilty now “No, I mean I'm _sorry,_ I really mean it.” she reiterated; she really was sorry. She feels like all her time of being so irritatingly stubborn are catching back up to her in a bad way. 

If her mother had a cigarette right now this would be the moment where she takes a drag and pauses. 

“I know sweetie.” 

“I am! I-I don’t know why I did it I—I just, I just thought, well I wanted to, I—” Stephanie cuts herself off as she feels her heart beat faster and faster in her chest, she feels a lump form in her throat and her stomach twist into a tangle of noughts, her palms begin to get clammy. Her fists clench and she finds that she cannot open them, she feels like she’s boiling as ugly sweat secretes from her hairline, she tries to breathe but it’s not working and—oh God, she’s panicking. And it’s all her fault and— 

She tries to breathe but she’s forgotten how to, her heart is throbbing against her ribcage like a feral animal trying to escape its cage at the zoo. She hears herself panting like a wet dog as her arms lose all their weight and twitch in an adrenaline rush type state, it seems as though her whole body is preparing her to fight of a monster that she can’t see, she can’t see it past all of the dark clouds— 

“ _Stephanie.”_

She hears someone making a noise, she tries to respond but her chattering teeth stop her from doing so. 

“ _Steph, honey!”_

Something touches the nape of her neck and she flinches away from whatever it was, it’s probably trying to get her— 

“ _Stephanie!”_

There's that familiar sound again. 

That sounds like— 

“M—” she tries but her throat makes a choking noise and she can taste the acidic bile at the back of her throat “Mom...?” she tries again. 

Something soft touches Stephanie’s hair but she feels no urge to shy away from it this time “Yes it’s me, I’m here honey.” her mother’s voice soothes. 

Stephanie sniffles, she thinks she can see the mess of tidy blonde waves her mother possesses, but her vision is still clouded. Is she still even wearing her glasses—? 

“I’m here. I’m here.” she echoes “Just breathe remember? Breathe in.” 

She breathes in. 

“Breathe out.” 

She exhales, both air and tension leaving her at the same time. 

“Good, good. Do that again.” 

Stephanie inhales and then exhales again, she can already feel her heart slowing down, she feels like she’s coming back down to earth now. 

“See? Keep doing that.” her mother guides. 

She breathes in and out again. 

“Okay, good. Just keep breathin’ darlin’ you’re doin’ a great job.” her mother says, and Stephanie’s vision clears up a bit and she can see that her mother has a hand on her shoulder. Has she always been there? 

Stephanie breathes as she can feel her body lose some of its tension, but she notices that her leg is bouncing. Had it always been? 

“Mom?” 

“Yes?” her mother replies as she presses a cold hand to her daughter’s forehead. Stephanie does a doubletake when she realises her surroundings and realises that she’s sitting at her dinner table in their kitchen, since when had they been inside? 

The lump in Stephanie’s throat is small enough for her to find her words now “Did I, um, panic again?” 

“I’m afraid so.” 

“Oh.” Stephanie looks down at the table, avoiding eye contact with her mother “I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, my heavens, honey you don’t need to apologising for _existing_.” her mother chuckles at the end but Stephanie senses that there may have been more than humour to that. Stephanie’s mother takes her now retracted hand and teases it through Stephanie’s now short and choppy hair. 

“I-I’m sorry!” Stephanie blurts out again “I didn’t mean to—” 

This time it’s her mother that cuts Stephanie off “What did I just say darlin’? You didn’t do anythin’ wrong.” she says confidently. 

Stephanie is confused by this; she had just completely ruined one of Stephanie’s only good dresses that her mother had to work to pay for and she had violated several school rules and dress codes by doing so, so why isn’t she mad? Infuriated even, Stephanie wasn’t a well-behaved child by any means, so then why? 

“But I. I got suspended.” she points out. 

Her mother sighs “I know.” she attempts to put a chunk of Stephanie’s hair behind her ear but it’s too short to do so, it feels comforting in a sense. 

“Then...why aren’t you mad?” Stephanie tries. 

Her mother, rubbing Stephanie’s back slowly, makes a facial expression which Stephanie can’t quite make out, it’s both a little bit frustrated and a little bit angry, but also calm and patient at the same time. 

“Oh, I'm definitely mad, angry almost. But, Steph. What you need to understand is,” Stephanie leaned forward and listened closely “the things you experience are things that no child should, I can give you a row for starting another street fight, which you do a lot, but things like this—” she made a general gesture “are things that aren’t you’re fault. Okay?” her mother reassured. But Stephanie wasn’t entirely sure what her mother meant, maybe she didn’t even fully know herself judging by the slight conviction in her tone. 

Stephanie, not knowing quite what to say, simply nodded and gave a quick “ok”. 

“I just want you to know that.” she reinforced softly. 

“Okay, I—I do know that.” she replied, unsure. 

Her mother gave a weak smile before taking her hand off Stephanie and standing up from the chair. 

“I’ll get you a drink of water.” she said and walked to the sink, but not before she stopped to give her daughter a quick kiss on the head on her newly short hair. 

Stephanie hasn’t had her hair like this since...a long time ago. She must’ve been about eight? Nine? At the time. 

She recalls how she felt in that moment, the sort of thrill she got from shedding blonde locks that weighed her down like the guilt of a sinner. And how free she felt for a long while afterwards, she felt like people were actually seeing her then—the real her. Not a fabrication of femininity that she had to perform because she had no other choice. 

It was great, until it had been taken away by that snake in woman’s clothing Principal Hadley. 

Oh, how she angered Stephanie, she walked and talked like she knew everything. She had this fixed idea about the world and say any of those who opposed it to be some sort of freak or outlier, she would talk down to children like she were a dictator looking down on her minions. It made Stephanie sick. 

She thinks about how she had taken that away from Stephanie, and how she did nothing when Mr. Andrews was taking out his own frustrations on children, and how she turned a blind eye when Bucky showed up with bruises most days and said nothing when Mr. Barnes stopped showing up for school meetings. 

There was just so many things in Stephanie’s life that she didn’t understand. Why does she have to wear dresses? Why do other people hate each other because of their skin? Or where they’re from? Why does her mother get dirty looks in public? Why are girls girls and boys boys? What the hell does ‘throw like a girl’ mean? Why can’t people love who they love? There seemed to be so many unwritten rules which were just never explained to Stephanie, some things she would just never understand. 

Maybe she is a sinner, for not understanding what everyone else seemed to understand. She knows the way she acts isn’t exactly what she sits down every Sunday to hear. It’s not like she’s ignorant of how society works, some people are just more favoured than others, and that ‘some people ought to be kept to their own kind’ is usually how the discussion goes. She knows that she’s supposed to wear dresses and tie her hair in pretty ribbons and keep quiet and keep to herself. But she prefers to wear slacks and prefers to keep her hair short and she “mixes with boys”, she really just like being friends with them. 

She feels like she can’t do either, she can’t wear shorts or have a short haircut, but she can’t do the opposite either. She feels like one of those actors in those films, dressing up and pretending to be something she’s not. If she were a boy, she’d have the trophy of the world's number one best actor. 

If God created everyone in his image, he must have had a really _warped_ image for Stephanie Rogers. 

* 

Stephanie hears a knock to her left; she turns and she sees Bucky perched on the fire escape outside her window. It was nothing unusual for either of them to show up unannounced at each other’s houses. She gets up from her rickety bed and heads over to her grimy window. 

Her arms strain slightly as she open’s it, it had been building up grime and had been getting harder and harder to open it, the temperatures getting lower and lower didn’t help either. 

“Hey.” she greeted her best friend with a smile. 

“Move, lemme in.” Bucky said, Stephanie moved over so he could get in. 

Bucky closed the window as he got in. 

“Are you okay?!” is the first thing he says, and it’s slightly confusing until Stephanie remembers that today was Saturday and that yesterday was Friday, when she had gotten suspended. 

“Oh, yeah Buck I'm fine.” she reassures. 

Bucky looks sceptical “You don’t look it.” he disagrees. 

“I am! Buck, I'm fine.” she defended. 

Bucky doesn’t look pleased with that answer “I heard you got suspended.” he stated. 

Stephanie sighed “Yeah...” she exhaled and then shrugged and her shoulders and let her hands hang awkwardly. 

Bucky’s eyes widened a little bit “Oh my god, Steph. Your hair!” he exclaimed and stepped forwards and took a small amount of Stephanie’s short hair in his gentle hands “What happened? Did someone do this to you?” he asked in a way like it was a horrible thing, she can’t entirely blame him for thinking this was caused by someone else, the amount of injuries she’s had from other people from fights had certainly created a standard for her. 

“No, um. I did it.” she corrected awkwardly shifting her gaze downwards. 

“Oh.” Bucky replied “Again?” he asks. 

“You remember?” Stephanie wonders, she must have been like, what, eight or nine at the time. When she had been at Bucky’s house and he had let her wear his clothes to pretend to be a boy. She remembers it so vividly; they had been sitting on his rickety bed by the window and the boy’s outside were making a particular racket, and she wanted to join in. Bucky had suggested that she could wear some of his clothes. 

So, she went outside and pretended to be a boy, ‘Roger’ was her name in that moment. At the time it didn’t even feel wrong, she just felt free, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulder. And then it had been placed back upon her once they had found out...in that moment she felt a feeling akin to betrayal unlike she ever had before. “ _Roger’s a girl!”_ one of the boys had yelled. 

...That’s when it started, almost like an infectious curse she couldn’t quite cure herself of. 

Even after it had all been taken away from her. 

She’s not exactly shocked that she had managed to finally come full circle, she had never quite loved wearing dresses before it, but it felt like every attempt at being ‘normal’ afterwards would eventually fall down on its face eventually. It’s almost like some sort of addiction, she was weary of it before, sceptical going in, then she did it more and more until she snapped and just couldn’t cope without it. 

Is that what she is? Some sort of addict? Like those young men who live above them with the white powder? 

But who had ever heard of someone being addicted to something so...Queer? God knows. 

Stephanie realises she had been zoning out when she notices Bucky wave a hand over her face “Hello? Earth to Steph! You there buddy?” 

“What--?” she asked, slightly startled. 

“You kinda spaced out there for a bit.” 

“Oh, I'm sorry. Um, anyway. You remember?” 

Bucky’s face is careful “I mean, yeah, how could I forget...” he trails off “But I thought you were uh, better?” 

Stephanie’s eyebrows pinch together “What do you mean ‘better’?” she echoes with slight offense. 

Bucky’s eyes go huge like he was a criminal caught in a lie “I didn’t mean—you know, I'm sorry!” he said frantically. 

“Yeah, I know you’re sorry.” she reassured, but she can’t help that it bothers her, even if she knows it was unintentional. 

“I am!” 

“‘S fine, Buck.” she shrugged, her eyes downcast, fiddling with her finger nails. 

Bucky’s voice cocks her head back up “Stevie, I didn’t mean that, you know I didn’t.” 

She sighs “Yeah I know, jus’ that’s what everyone else says so...” she remarked, defeated. 

“I promise I don’ think that, I meant I thought you were um...passed all that.” 

She sighs again “Yeah I thought that too.” she shrugs “Guess not.” 

“I mean, I think it looks alright,” Bucky ruffles her hair slightly “better than last time, that’s for sure.” 

She snorts at this “Gee, thanks.” 

Bucky lightly punches her shoulder “I think it suits you. I missed it.” 

“Shut up, jerk.” 

“C’mon, my ma gave me fifty cents, we can go buy the newest Buck Rogers.” 

“You’re obsessed with that.” she teased. 

“I’m not _obsessed,_ I just like it, thank you very much.” Bucky defended. 

“Mhm, sure.” 

“Shut up you.” Bucky punches her shoulder playfully “I can like what I want.” 

“No shame in it,” Stephanie’s shoulder’s shake slightly as she giggles “just admit you’re obsessed.” 

Bucky presses his index and thumb finger together “Bout this close from smackin’ you.” 

“You’d never.” 

“Oh yeah?” he smirks “Try me.” he jokes, a comforting sort of light heartedness to this tone. 

“Funny name though.” Stephanie remarks. 

“You think?” 

“Yeah, sounds like someone we know.” 

“Reckon we should both change our name to Buck Rogers?” 

“Oh definitely. That way no one could ever separate us.” 

“We should also get matchin’ clothes so no one can tell who’s the real one.” 

“Yeah ‘n you get a wig as well.” 

“Why do I gotta wear the wig.” 

“‘Cause you can’t decide on a hair length, I don’t wanna change it every time.” 

“Fine then.” she says in a faux annoyed voice “Still not happy about it though.” 

“Why not?” 

“‘Cause why on earth would I wanna look like your ugly mug? It’s insulting really.” 

Bucky playfully punches her on the shoulder again “Funny ‘cause you ain’t call it ugly when you wanna draw it.” 

“That’s different you dumb jerk.” 

“Sure, sure.” 

“It is! It’s for practicin’, no idea who would want your mug on a piece ‘a paper forever. Takin’ up space in their sketch pad like that.” 

“My ma says I’m handsome enough.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Quit it.” Stephanie giggles “Also you can barely talk when you got a nose as crooked as that.” 

“It ain’t that crooked first of all. And I’ve only had it broken a few times.” 

“A few.” 

“You got a problem with that?” 

“Kinda, yeah. I don’t like you gettin’ hurt like that.” 

“You’re not my mom.” 

“Someone gotta be when she ain’t here to keep you straight.” 

“I don’t need keepin’ straight, I’ll do what I want thanks.” 

Bucky sighed “Guess so.” he shrugged “Speakin’ of,” he seemed to pause before speaking again “are you alright?” 

She furrows her eyebrows “Yeah...? Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I dunno just, you’ve been actin’ kinda weird lately is all. Is it ‘cause of, are you, um—y’know, on it?” 

Stephanie immediately recoiled “For God’s sake, no.” 

“Sorry, I'm just worried.” he apologised. 

“Thanks, but, I'm fine Buck.” 

“See I'm not good at math but I know that don’t add up.” he joked to take some of the tension off the situation, like he always did “You don’t gotta tell me, but if there is stuff goin’ on, you can talk to me alright?” 

“Sap.” 

“I’m serious.” 

“Thanks, but, I'm fine. I promise.” 

Bucky stared at her for a moment “Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“We should get goin’.” he stated. 

“Right.” she replied. 

* 

Light entered the room as her eyes fluttered open, she sat up and stretched, the itchy nature of her patched-up pyjama's rubbing against her skin uncomfortably. She’s really due for some new ones, maybe if her boss gives her a raise in pay Sarah might be able to afford some new ones, she’d definitely get Stephanie a pair too, Lord knows that girl needs at least one pair of flattering clothes, especially since she’s growing now. 

Giving her back a good stretch, Sarah sits up from the bed. Spotting the calendar on her bedside table, she picks up the corresponding pencil and draws a circle around today’s date, like she does every day. She goes to the twenty-fourth, Tuesday. And marks it with her pencil. October twenty-fourth, she has a day off today if she’s not mistaken. 

She looks a little bit closer and she sees she does in fact have a day of today, her neat handwriting marking ‘ _Day off’_ on today, right above ‘ _Relax for once!’_ in a slightly messier handwriting style, that must’ve been Stephanie reminding her to take breaks. She smiles as she thinks of how much her daughter must care for her, even if she’s Little Miss Too Cool for Feelings, she knows she really does care. But she often finds herself having to remind Stephanie that “ _Darlin’, I could do this all day.”_

If she has a good rest today, Sarah might pick her up from school today, and then treat her to something. Maybe even pick her out one of those _Buck Rogers_ cartoons her and James are obsessed with currently, she thinks it’s cute. Buck Rogers, she wonders if they see the irony or not. 

Dawning slippers and a dressing gown, Sarah drags her feet out of her bedroom towards the kitchen where she thinks she’ll fancy herself a nice cup of tea, if they have any left over. And maybe she’ll even listen to the radio as she reads whatever amateur writers failed draft made the writers section of the paper this week as she takes drags from her cigarette in peace. Yes, that sounds like a lovely morning. 

The clock on the wall reads 1:20pm, she really did have a long lie then. That means that Stephanie must’ve fixed herself breakfast this morning, if she even ate at all. She seemed to be a particularly picky eater as of late. They’ll need to work on that. 

She lights a cigarette and opens the door, down on the floor was today’s newspaper, it’s from the _Brooklyn Daily_ _Eagle_ _,_ one of the more coherent ones she thinks. 

Picking it up, she takes a seat at the round dining table, the chair makes a jarring screeching noise as she brings it out so she can sit on it. She tosses the newspaper flat onto the table. 

Opening up at the front page, Sarah’s eyes may have deceived her, she does a doubletake and re-reads it. She couldn’t’ve possible gotten that right. She stares at the newspaper in her hands. The fine paper resting between her fingers, her eyes gazing upon those blocks of ink that red _‘WALL ST. IN PANIC AS STOCKS CRASH’_ she reads once more just to make sure; she even rubs her eyes. But the words still do not change. 

She puts her cigarette out and lets it rest on the table. Her eyes aren’t lying to her, right there on the front page was all the proof she needed. Stocks...crash. A damned crash...everyone’s stocks were deflating. Wall Street in panic as stocks crash _._ If everyone’s stocks were going, then her savings...shit. 

If stocks were crashing, then they’d soon run out of money to pay people. Sarah’s an essential worker with an ill daughter. 

She feels her palms get sweaty, the words on the page are harder to see because for whatever reason she just can’t keep her hands still. 

Squinting, her eyes travel to a paragraph which reads; 

> _‘STOCKS CRASH IN RUSH TO SELL; BILLIONS LOST’ Morgan, Mitchell Buying Stocks in Effort to Check Rush to Unload._
> 
> _Wall Street was in a panic today, with no one to guide It out. Stocks crashed 10 to 50 points to outrageous levels. Wheat broke 10 cents' a bushel In Chicago on distress selling. Bankers were offering some support, but admitted the situation had gotten beyond them._   
> _Charles E. Mitchell, chairman of the National City Bank, wan conferring in the office of J. P. Morgan & Co., it was understood, and other leading bankers were there. _   
> _It was also understood the Morgan partners had been talking by telephone with J. P. Morgan in London all morning._   
> _By noonday the best information was that they had been buying stocks...’_

She stares at the paper, she feels fragile as she feels her heart throbbing in her chest, smacking against her ribcage like a drum. 

Running a hand through her hair, she stands up and the chair she was sitting on screeches against the floor, newspaper left on the table abandoned. 

How on earth are they supposed to stay afloat now, surely Sarah’s pay will end up dwindling anytime now 

She can feel her head getting light as she leans one on the table to steady herself. She can’t faint, she won’t, she has to— 

“Mom, are you okay?” a voice says from behind her. No that can’t be right, it was nowhere near 3 o’clock yet, Stephanie shouldn’t be home for ages yet. 

Sarah takes her shaky hand off the table of which she was leaning her weight on “Stephanie, darlin’.” she says, slightly caught off guard. She moves to stand in front of the newspaper which was placed in plain view on the table “What are you doin’ here? School doesn’t end for another couple of hours.” 

Her daughter simply shrugs “School told us to go home early, I think we had a half day or somethin’.” she replies, blissfully ignorant of the message typed out in bold ink on the newspaper right behind her. 

“Oh-- right.” Sarah replied as she fixes her messy hair. 

Stephanie’s eyebrows pinch together “Did you just wake up?” she asks. 

Sarah brings a hand to her forehead and massages her temples “Yes, I had a day off.” she responded “I mean a half day.” 

“Oh okay.” Stephanie said as she took off her coat and bag “What’s that?” she puzzled; her eyes clearly focused on the newspaper on the table. Shit, maybe Sarah hadn’t hidden it as well as she thought. 

Sarah was about to take the newspaper and throw it away, never to be thought of again. But she thought differently. She took a deep breath “It,” she steadied her tone “it’s today’s newspaper, and it just means that well...” she trailed off. 

“Means what?” Stephanie echoed in confusion. 

That was when Sarah realised that there was no way she could possibly hide the truth from her daughter. It was already in the papers, and with a crash rate like that it wouldn’t be long until it affected her daughter’s schooling, public schools require public funding...she’d find out sooner or later. 

“It means that,” she pulled out two chairs for them to sit down. Sarah sat down on the nearest one and Stephanie followed suit. 

Sarah made sure to bring the newspaper under the table “It means that, well, there was a crash of sorts in Manhattan earlier today. That basically means that there isn’t a lot of money now—” 

“But I thought the e...economy, was good?” Stephanie stammers in confusion. It was clear that she was only saying words she had heard before, she probably doesn’t even know what they fully mean yet, and is only aware they’re only vaguely money-related. 

Sarah felt an uneasy feeling in her stomach, this...was a mess. This wasn’t nearly the first time that they’ve had a ‘we’re running out of money’ talk, not by a long shot. But she’s never given the ‘I might lose my job talk’ before. 

How do you tell your eleven-year-old child that you don’t know what to do? 

They were already on thin-ice from Sarah’s single wage and her occasional odd jobs, and her paying for the apartment and her daughter’s medical expenses. 

Sarah takes a deep breath and tries to speak calmly “It _was_ good. But it isn’t anymore. And now people’s pay checks might change.” she alliterated. 

“What does this mean?” Stephanie puzzled. 

“It means,” Sarah paused, she felt like she could scream. But she has to stay strong “It’s fine, right now. It just means that I might get paid a bit less now. And it could mean that I may even get fired and some things may change—but don’t worry.” she grabs her daughter’s hand and softly runs her fingers over her misshapen knuckles in a soothing manner “This is silly adult problems; I promise you’ll be fine.” she maintained. 

Stephanie nodded “Okay. So, we’ll be okay, right?” she asked. 

Sarah nodded her head in a way that she hopes was convinces “Yes. These are just adult problems I have to deal with. Now go get changed, I need to wash your school clothes for tomorrow.” she instructed. 

“Okay.” Stephanie obeyed and left the room to her own bedroom. 

Once Sarah heard the click of her daughter’s bedroom door, she allowed herself to put her head in her hands. This was a mess. 

* 

A nearby flock of birds screech as the ball smacks loudly against the chain-link fence. Stephanie cringes as she sees it went in the complete opposite direction that she meant to hit it in. She’s never had a strong batting arm, and she doesn’t seem to be getting any better. 

“BOO!” Bucky called, giving her a thumbs down with his one good hand. 

Stephanie turned around to look at her friend who was sitting disapprovingly on a pile of bricks “I’m doing everything you’re telling me to!” she re-joined exasperated. 

“That’s cause you’re not hittin’ hard enough!” 

“I’m hittin’ as hard as I can!” 

“You just gotta put your weight into it!” Bucky counters. 

Stephanie groans “What weight...” she cursed under her breath as she walks to the fence to retrieve the battered baseball. Once she has retrieved it, she jogs back to her annoyed friend “You do it then if you’re so smart.” she joked. 

“Don’t sass me, it’s not my fault you suck.” he jeers. 

Stephane rolls her eyes and sit’s next to him on the uncomfortable pile of bricks. 

“Did you hear about the banks?” Bucky quired curiously. 

Stephanie nods as she shifts uncomfortably “That thing up in Wall Street? Yeah, my ma told me on Tuesday. Says she might get sacked. But she told me not to worry ‘bout it.” she informs, recalling that particular conversation with her mother. 

Bucky nods “Same. My ma’s gettin’ all bent outta shape about it. Says were gonna have a recession ‘n that we’re all gonna eat cabbage stew outta boots for the rest of our lives, or somethin’.” 

Stephanie chuckles slightly “What’re your sister’s thinkin’ about it?” she asks and takes a swig of her Coca-Cola bottle. 

Before Bucky answers her he takes a doubletake “Your ma lets you drink that?” 

“Well...she doesn’t _let_ me do it...” she admitted sheepishly, adverting her eyes. 

“Jeez, an’ I thought you said it makes you feel funny?” he recalled. 

Stephanie simply stayed silent and took another sip of her coke, staring Bucky right in the eye with a nasty little grin on her face. Bucky just rolls his eyes and moves on. 

“Anyways, and Becca doesn’t really get it I don’t think, an’ the twins are toddlers so...” 

Stephanie nods “Ah, okay.” she held the Coca-Cola bottle out to Bucky. Bucky snatches it from her playfully with that silly little smirk of his. 

Stephanie eyes a group of familiar boys walking along a little while away from where she’s sitting being noisy and causing a racket. She nudges Bucky next to her “Christ, there’s so and so and his whole posse.” 

“Aw, seriously?” Bucky whines. 

“Yeah.” Stephanie answers. 

Bucky squints “Hey, ain’t those the boys we were runnin’ away from when I broke my arm?” Bucky puzzles, keeping a good eye on the small group. 

“ _Yeah,_ it is!” 

Bucky pauses “You better not be thinkin’ it.” he warnes. 

Stephanie turns her head and stares at him incuriously “Thinkin’ what?” she echoes. 

Bucky gives her a look “You know damn well what.” he repeats. 

Stephanie rolls her eyes “I’m not thinkin’ I'm gonna throat slam ‘em, if that’s what you're thinkin’ I'm thinkin’.” 

“Weird ‘cause I _am_ thinkin’ you're thinkin’ that.” 

“I’m not!” Stephanie protests. 

Bucky takes another sip of their shared coke “Better not.” he answers. 

When she sees that the bottle is almost empty, she reaches it over and snatches it back “Don’t drink it all! Jeez.” 

“Alright sorry.” 

“Better be.” she answers and takes another long sip of it, he eyes lingering on that rambunctious group of boys as they walked and shoved each other on the pavement. 

* 

Stephanie let out a sigh as she shut the door to apartment. She quickly removed her coat and kicked off her shoes. 

“Stephanie darlin’?” she hears her mother’s voice call from the living room. 

“Yeah?” she said as she stepped into the room. Placing the now empty bottle of Coke onto one of the tables. 

Her mother eyes it “Why are you bringing trash into my house, young lady?” 

“Um, there wasn’t-- I couldn’t find a bin that took glass.” she answered awkwardly. 

“Well okay then,” her mother cleared her throat “I have some news.” 

Stephanie let out a relieved sigh “Oh good, are the banks all fine now or somethin’?” she asked. 

Her mother’s facial expression was oddly stern “I’m afraid not.” she said. And judging by her oddly stiff and un-relaxed posture from where she was sitting on the couch that this was not going to be a casual conversation. 

Stephanie sat on the couch next to her mother “Then what is it?” she puzzled, now feeling the beginnings of worry. 

There was a pause “We’ve actually...well, it turns out that I've been fired from my job, and I can’t afford to pay the bills anymore—” Stephanie cut off her mother before she could respond. 

She moved slightly on the couch “What?! Does this mean we’re gonna be homeless?” she questioned. 

Her mother put up a hand in a ‘calm down’ manner "No, we’re not.” she clarified “We’re moving in with James and his family.” 

Stephanie felt both confusion and excitement “We are?!” she asked “I get to live with Bucky?” 

Her mother nodded “Yes, we’re moving into their house with them, we don’t know where everyone is going to be sleeping just yet, but that’s what’s happening.” she informed. 

“Really? Okay,” she responded, the slight worry not leaving her “so when are we movin’ in?” she questioned. Surely it would be soon? 

“We’re actually being told to leave, so tomorrow after school. So, I need you to pack a bag in the meantime so you’re all ready by tomorrow.” 

“I have to go to school tomorrow?” she echoed. 

“Yes, Stephanie. You’re going.” her mother firmly confirmed. 

Stephanie didn’t like that. That sounded completely ridiculous “But the school doesn’t really care right now, they wrote a letter ‘n everything!” she defended. 

Her mother sighs, she seemed to be doing a lot of that recently “I know they did, darlin’, I read it. But me and Winnie need to move everything between now and then and I need to make sure you’re supervised, plus your education matters.” 

Stephanie just groans “I don’t need a babysitter!” she yelled. 

“This isn’t up for debate.” her mother shot down. 

“Right, sorry.” she said she gritted teeth. 

“Oh, and one more thing.” her mother added on. 

Stephanie furrowed her eyebrows “Hm? What is it?” she wondered. 

“We’re moving in with the Barnes’s, but,” her mother paused “someone we haven’t seen in a long time, Mr. Barnes is also moving back in as well.” 

Stephanie felt as though her brain stopped working “What?” she asked blankly. 

Her mother’s firm tone continued “Yeah, Winnie has been talking to him recently, and since we need all the help we can get—” 

Stephanie jumped up from the couch “NO.” she fumed. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Sorry just— _him?!_ After what he—really?!” 

“Calm down.” 

“I-- why?!” 

“Because him and Mrs. Barnes have already been talking, and since the crash—we need the financial help.” 

“D-Does Bucky know?” 

“Yes, the all talked about it apparently.” 

“Still! I don’t want him to hurt Bucky again! I won’t let him!” 

“You won’t have to; you and Bucky will be sharing a room and we’ll all make sure he won’t do anything.” 

“Are--are you sure?” 

“Absolutely, and believe me when I say I wanted to slap the sense back into Winnie myself when she told me, but that’s what’s happening.” 

“I don’t like it.” 

“I’m not saying you have to; I don’t like it either. But that's what’s going to happen, I just wanted to let you know in advance, okay?” 

“...Okay.” 

“Good, now go pack a bag.” 

“Yes, Ma.” 

Stephanie’s eyes caught sight of her best friend standing outside his house “Bucky!” she announced, the wet concrete was loud under her feet as she ran up to him. She jumps into Bucky’s arms, hugging him tightly. 

“Be careful!” her mother calls from a few feet behind her. 

Bucky pats her on the back before they let go of the hug. 

“Hey Stevie.” he greets 

“Hey.” she greets back “You weren’t in today.” she points out, remembering how she had to eat lunch alone. 

“Yeah I had to stay and take care of Cora and Lily.” Bucky answers. 

Stephanie looked two her right where the two youngest Barnes’s were gathered under the same umbrella trying to stay hidden from the rain that their mother was holding. 

Stephanie gulped and averted her gaze, not sure how to approach this “I heard that um, your dad was movin’ back in.” she said carefully. 

Bucky put his hands in his pockets “Yeah.” he answered. 

“I’m sorry by the way.” she sympathises. 

Bucky tries to shrug it off “It’s okay, I just gotta power through it, mom says.” 

Stephanie nods, unsure what to say “Good, that’s...good.” she pauses “My mom said we’re sharing a room?” she asked, quickly changing the subject. 

Bucky nodded with a slight smile “Yeah, we’re both gonna be sleeping in my room as well, Becca will be sleeping with the twins. An’ my parents and your ma will be in the same room.” 

“That sounds really crowded.” 

“I know!” he agreed “It sucks! Like, I want privacy.” 

“What, are you sick ‘a me?” Stephanie joked. 

“Yeah.” Bucky answered playfully. 

Stephanie hit him in the chest jokingly. 

“This sucks. Like, last week everything was fine.” 

“Yeah, no-one saw this comin’.” Stephanie agreed. 

“Seriously.” 

“Me and my ma were told to leave our house, an’ she was fired too.” she said. 

Bucky made a face like he was extremely offended “No!” he gasped. 

“Yeah! It’s really not fair.” she whined. 

“Well, I mean at least we got a house, Steph. Some people ain’t so lucky.” 

Stephanie nodded “I know, ‘m really glad for that,” “jus’ sucks this is happening at all I guess.” 

“Tell me about it, my mom thinks everything’s gonna be fine soon. But like,” he paused “I dunno, it seems pretty bad...My neighbours had a huge freak out last Tuesday, like they were practically screaming the walls down.” Bucky said. 

“Really? Yikes, that sounds like a nightmare.” she remarked. 

“C’mon you two, we have to get inside.” Stephanie’s mother said as she nudged her gently. 

Bucky turned to her “C’mon.” he said as he tugged her towards the door. 

* 

The water makes a loud noise as it’s sucked down the pipe of the sink and taken to wherever water ends up after it’s made its way through drains, Bucky turns off the tap and dries his hand by shaking it in the air, making several droplets hit his face. 

That’s the dishing just about done for today, no doubt more will need to be done everyone’s had their dinner at 6pm, then it’ll be Steph’s turn. She was supposed to do it right now but she’s upstairs helping Becca do her hair, which is a laughable idea at worst and an adorable sight at worst. That’s what Becca gets for ruining Bucky’s homework last week, she can get her hair ruined. 

Just as Bucky’s about to turn around and walk upstairs to see the sight Becca’s bedroom must be in right now, Bucky’s eyes instead shift to the doorframe where a tall and familiar figure take up the space in-between the rooms, tall and dark and casual the figure stands, his shoulder leaning against the doorframe, lit cigarette in hand. 

A loose scowl decorated his face, giving it a sort of natural glare that Bucky could remember exactly. His slick brown hair just as neat and tidy as he had remembered. The only thing that seems to be new is this sort of restrained stance that he didn’t have before, he had never been afraid of doing what he pleases or even questioning it. He just seems to be weary if anything. 

Bucky felt light as if he could sprint out of here at any moment and never appear again. He can feel his good hand tremble slightly from where it’s now hidden tucked underneath the fabric of the pocket of his shorts. 

Instead of bolting like everything inside him is screaming to do, he gulps down the saliva making its way up his throat. 

His whole body seemed to naturally tense in defence like how it did whenever Steph would insist she was fine after a particularly nasty fall, he should probably take some notes from her in that regard. 

It’s too quiet to be comfortable right now, the only sounds to be heard is the working its way through the pipes, Bucky can smell the fumes of his cigarette from across the room and his shoe polisher is so strong that Bucky can taste its tar-like stench. As to where he got shoe polisher Bucky has no clue, he worked an okay wedge at a funeral home before, how he acquired that money Bucky has no idea. Maybe he pawned the car. 

Bucky opens his mouth only for it to hang open like a fish for a few moments. He takes a drag from his cigarette as his eyes linger on Bucky from across the room, his face is blank and Bucky has no idea what he’s thinking, although it’s not exactly much of a change, from what Bucky _can_ remember he wasn’t incredibly affectionate when he’s been around, Bucky remembers he taught him how to tie his shoes and how to hold a baseball properly, but all else is either fuzzy or not pleasantly recalled. 

He can taste the fumes of the cigarette as he takes a deep breath, he feels momentarily guilty, his ma told him he’s not to smoke for the next couple of years or she’ll have his head, as she put it “Hi Dad.” he greeted, in his hopes he sounded manly and intimidating, like he’s supposed to be, but in reality, he hears the quavering in his voice and the elevated pitch. 

His dad takes a drag from his cigarette and stares for a moment. 

Eventually he sighs and leans off of the wall. He readjusts himself so he’s still in the doorway, blocking Bucky’s exist, but maybe not purposely. If anything, it seems like _he_ wants to leave. Out of the corner of his eye Bucky spots that the window is open, he could go out that way he supposes. 

The popping noise of a lip smack echoes throughout the ever-silent room like a pencil dropping in an exam hall. Bucky remembers how his dad used to lip smack at the radio when the baseball was on and that reporter from Queens came on, his dad seemed to just naturally despise a lot of people from the get go. He had never even met that reporter but it was enough for him to smash the radio one time, said his voice was too ‘fruity’ or something, whatever that meant. 

Bucky stares at him while carefully trying to avoid eye contact, he has no idea what’ll set him off this time. Bucky doesn’t remember a lot of things too strongly. Was there even anything to remember? George Barnes was a bitter ex-alcoholic who didn’t like anything or anyone who wasn’t exactly like him, Bucky wouldn’t be surprised if that was all there is to it. 

He seems to have forgotten a thing or two about him, he’s not complaining, he knows there are things he would rather his mind toss away anyway. 

His dad’s lip settle parted from each other for a second. 

“Hello James.” the gravelly undercurrent of his voice made him sound tired and worn out, he sounded like Old Joe, the new neighbour who lives across the street and barely talks, he’d survived The Great War and came out of it a quiet and weary old man with half his cheek missing, he was kind though. He lets Bucky and Steph take care of his cat Mabel when he’s at the store since she’s small and sickly and he doesn’t want her outside, --Steph always hates it when Bucky compared it to her, it didn’t help that she was allergic to cats as well, they'd discovered that the hard way— 

He’s almost like Bucky’s father in the emotionally distant war veteran thing. 

Bucky almost flinches when he hears his name come out of that man’s mouth, it felt like when he fell and his arm broke those couple of months ago, less necessarily painful or scary, just...shocking, and although he’s expected the impact, he couldn’t prepare himself for how it felt to land on his entire bodyweight. And he absolutely didn’t prepare himself for hearing that name on that man’s tongue for the first time in... Christ, two years. 

All Bucky can say is “It’s Bucky, you know it’s Bucky.” 

_Stupid._ That’s all he can come up with? Bucky’s mind is entirely full, clogged with everything he wants to say, with everything he feels like he should say. But it’s not getting to his mouth. His mind is screaming at him to do everything violent and abhorrent. To scream and punch his face and kick him in the crotch and throw shit all over the walls just to make up even a fraction of it. But yet he stands still as statue and he can’t quiet down the trembling of his left hand still, is this what they call being paralysed with fear? 

“Bucky then,” he corrects himself, Bucky’s slightly taken aback, he’d never called him Bucky before as far as he can remember. It was always James this and James that, sometimes James Buchanan if he was on his usual tirade, but never Bucky. He probably just can’t remember how disrespectful he was, Bucky reasons. 

“M--Ma said you were comin’ back.” he related, wanting nothing more to exit this situation. 

His father does not respond appropriately “Stutter.” is what he says in response. Bucky winced, he’d been trying to fix that, and it felt as though someone had scrubbed ice over salt right onto his skin, he hadn’t expected much, but maybe not even being disappointed is worse. 

Bucky remembers how much his father despised his...problem, he’d thought it a disease, as something to be shunned and buried, soon to be done away with. On reflection Bucky realises that doesn’t differ much from how he thinks his father views Bucky himself, as if he himself was the disability himself. It left a bad taste in Bucky’s tongue and a bad strain in his heart. 

Bucky scrambles his mind for something to say to fill the silence “Ma said ‘Your dad’s comin’ back to live with us...‘cause we don’t got money no more’...or somethin’. Can’t remember, sorry.” he recites “C-Cause Mom’s job with the phones ain’t enough to cover neither.” he informs, and the words spill out his mouth quickly as though he’s forcing them out like he did in Mr. Anderson’s reading English class last year. 

His father takes another slow drag of his cigarette and leans against the doorframe again, although differently as his leg is crossed over the other like how those men would stand at street corners with their fancy scarfs and comfortable shoes “‘S that why your pal and her mother’s upstairs?” it’s an ordinary question, but Bucky feels somewhat hesitant to answer, he’d never liked many things, even despised some, and the Irish had been one of those, Bucky remembers telling Steph not to speak around him...just in case he was sent off, that memory doesn’t feel comfortable to remember. 

Bucky shrugs and tries not to look so stiff, but can’t stop feeling tense “Yeah, well, ‘cause they’re friends so, and it’s easier to afford the bills, Mom says. ‘Cause since last Thursday ‘s been kinda hard to keep afloat separately.” he disclosed, he still remembers reading the first paper on Black Tuesday ‘ _Piles of Stocks CRASH in heavy liquidation’_ is what it had said exactly, he wonders if his father read it at the same time as he did, or if he had that panic that the whole neighbourhood had when everyone realised they lost all their savings. 

“Mm.” he grumbles and takes another drag of his cigarette, it’s almost put out at this point, as if he’s only doing it to find something to do with his hands and not to look like a fidgeting idiot like Bucky probably does “She still an operator? Your mother.” he queried flatly. 

“Yeah.” Bucky answered confidently “She didn’t get fired though, ‘cause she got kids an’ her boss was nice, I guess. Same place too.” 

“Ain’t that nice.” he grumbles. 

Bucky bites the inside of his cheek “What about you?” Bucky queried. 

His father raised an eyebrow “Yeah.” he responds tartly “I kept the car, case you were wondering. Works just as fine.” 

“‘S gotta be about five years old now.” Bucky quips. 

“Watch your mouth.” his father retaliates sharply. 

If Bucky flinches slightly, he doesn’t want to think about it. He thought he was passed it. 

After a minute of quiet his father pipes up “Why on earth are you still friends with that mick?” he spat. 

Bucky’s mouth hangs open and he stood completely still for a moment. He felt heat in his face and chest as he resisted the temptation to grab the nearest heavy thing and club him over the head with it “Don’t call her that!” he warns and he can feel his voice bring projected throughout the room. Bucky isn’t sure what _rage_ feels like but he feels like he can understand why Steph responds with her fists in this moment. 

“So that’s a yes.” is all he answers. 

“Just don’t say that!” Bucky reiterates. 

His father smacks his lips in contempt again “You’re sensitive.” he huffed. 

“What problem do you even have with her?” Bucky shot back, a little louder than he expected, he thinks he may have been a little too loud as he hears all noise from upstairs cease. Shit. 

His father takes a drag from his cigarette. Bucky can feel the civility of just a moment ago vanish like smoke in the air “Fuck’s with your arm?” he deflects. 

Bucky’s jaw hardens so tightly he feels it quaver “Fell on it.” he spits. If he didn’t want to leave before, he’d do anything to do it now. 

“When will it be healed?” 

Bucky huffs “I got rid ‘a the sling a while ago, doc said I’m getting the cast take off in about a week. But I don’t really think we still got a doc anymore ‘cause--” 

“Yes, I know.” he cut off. 

He takes himself off of the wall and the small creak of the wooden floorboards feel as loud as a bulldozer as he places his feet on the ground and walks forward, Bucky instinctively takes a step back. 

Bucky tries not to wince or flinch when suddenly the man known as his father places his large hand on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky’s grown a lot in the past two years, he remembers his father to be taller, although that doesn’t make Bucky feel any less small right now as he looks up to that permanently indignant face and forced to stare into eyes that couldn’t be any more different than his own. 

The cigarette in between his fingers lightly grazes upon Bucky’s stained shirt, it doesn’t hurt as the cigarette is all but burned out now but it does serve as a reminder that Bucky is very much a fan of personal space “You better get that sorted soon.” he instructed. 

“Why?” Bucky squinted incredulously. 

His father briefly looked off to the side for a second, and it temporarily gave Bucky a break from being stared at like he was being interrogated. 

Bucky felt uncomfortable when he was put under his gaze again “I had a job when I was ten years old kid, I was liftin’ dozens of milk crates out the back of trucks since before I could even count ‘em. I’m holding you to that same standard,” he informed and his hand weighed heavy on Bucky's shoulder that he’s almost convinced that there’s already a mark underneath his shirt. 

Bucky remembers being told this same story a few times when he was younger, once when he was seven and twice when he was eight, and a few good times when he was ten. And he guesses, now, at twelve years-old “you’ll be the man of the house one day, so you gotta act like one.” Bucky felt the need to protest as a confining and uncomfortable feeling settled in his chest. Just serving to remind him that he doesn’t fit up to his standard. 

“Maybe you’re fuckin’ illiterate but you gotta be useful for somethin’.” Bucky felt stunned. 

“Am I clear?” what’s there to be clear about? Bucky didn’t even feel the need to say anything this time. He simply accepted the knot twisting in his stomach and looked down. 

“Yes.” he mumbled. He can feel a pair of piercing eyes gaze down upon him and immediately follows up with a “Yes, sir.” 

The young boy feels like he can breathe again as that heavy monstrous claw is retracted from Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky watches his figure get smaller and smaller as he gets closer to the doorway. 

“Good.” he said as his figure disappears down the hallway and out of Bucky’s sight. 

A massive sigh escapes Bucky’s lungs and he leans against the counter behind him. 

Yup, that went about as well as he’d expect. 

Bucky’s sitting on his and Steph’s shared bed with a beaten-up copy of _The Chessman of Mars_ that Steph had gotten for him in his hands, he finds he enjoys this science fiction stuff enough to try and power through it, although that doesn’t make the words stop moving all over the page. 

He flicks the page over and hears a knock at the door. He quickly folds the corner of the page over to preserve his place in the story. 

“Come in!” he calls, placing the book to his side. 

The creaky door opens to expose Mrs. Rogers standing in the doorway “Hi, can I come in?” she comes in and sits down before Bucky can tell her he already answered. 

The bed sinks lightly as she sits down next to him. Bucky rotates slightly to look at her properly. 

“How are you?” she asks with a tired overtone to her voice. 

“I’m fine.” Bucky answers “What about you? You sound tired.” he points out. 

She simply laughs it off and waves her hand in a worriless manner “Oh don’t worry about that, I was just helping Becca fix her hair again because _someone_ ruined it.” Bucky giggles as he recalls the priceless picture of Becca’s hair all poofy and matted with about half of one of Stephanie’s arm stuck in it with a hairy brush brandished in the other, and her comically terrified expression topped it all off. She threw the brush at him when he laughed. 

“How’d it go?” he asked, a gentle smile present on his features. 

Mrs. Rogers’ hand flew to her mouth for a brief moment as her eyes scrunched up in muffled laughter “She got horribly angry when I laughed—I felt horrible but I just couldn’t help myself,” he exhaled and her face was red “when she was standin’ there elbow deep in hair and poor Becca looks so confused, I feel horrible but what a sight it was.” she recalled “I did manage to free them and now Becca’s never goin’ near Steph when she has a brush ever again—a wise choice if you ask me.” 

Bucky giggled “Yeah, she threw a brush at me.” 

Mrs. Rogers shoulder’s shook as she chortled “I worry for her sometimes, you’re good for her, my daughter. She’s always been reckless and I can’t help that when she’s at school, so I'm glad you’re there to keep her in check...more or less.” she said as her voice took on a more serious tone. 

Bucky nodded “Thanks, she’s...my best friend y’know? ‘N I care about her, so, y’know I gotta take care of her sometimes.” Bucky replies, smiling as he thinks of his best friend “I keep tellin’ her she has to be careful...but she doesn’t listen.” Bucky continued, he loves his best friend, he does. He just wishes that Steph didn’t respond fist-first all the time, she’s already so frail and sickly, it’s hard worrying about your best friend every time they go outside sometimes. 

Mrs. Rogers puts a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder, it’s reassuring in a way that his father’s hand previously just wasn’t. It makes him feel safe, Bucky thinks how Steph must be really lucky to have a mom like her “Thank you, son, sometimes I think she’s too much like how I was at her age.” Mrs. Rogers relates, Bucky is taken aback for a brief moment, she was like how Steph was? It seems like such a foreign concept, although he can definitely see it –they have that same kind of ‘fine I'll do it myself if no-one else will’ kind of resolve, but it’s not what Bucky would’ve thought. 

Maybe he’s just so used to Steph being lectured for her violence by her mother that he just never thought it “Really? You were just like her?” he echoes to her; he knows his face must look something akin to complete shock right now. 

She smiles “Yup, I was similar to her in a lot of ways; this scrappy kid who didn’t know when to give up, I thought I could keep fighting all day long.” she smiles “That seems to have rubbed off on her.” 

Bucky shrugs “Well, I guess I'm kind of glad, ‘cause that’s how we met. I saw someone get decked in the park and I was like ‘what kind of idiot—?’ so now we’re best friends.” Bucky told Mrs. Rogers; he still remembers that day vividly “An’ it’s just, y’know I get worried sometimes, because she’s y’know...” Bucky pauses, trying to collect the right words “She’s...different --in a good way—but like, she isn’t very girly, and people don’t really like that.” 

She giggles slightly, she shuffles on the bed slightly, presumably to get more comfortably. She sighs “Unfortunately, you’re right. Personally, I feel like she can do whatever the hell she like as long as she’s not hurtin’ anyone, but people are silly, and they don’t think. They just see someone different and have a problem with it.” she added, her fingers running across the bedsheets. 

Bucky nods “Yeah, I just do what I can, ‘cause I know she doesn’t like being babied, but sometimes it’s like, you can barely walk, so...” 

She squeezes Bucky’s reassuringly before she removes her hand from it “Exactly, I’m worried for her,” she sighs “also...how did the talk with your father go?” she asks carefully, as to not upset the young boy. 

Bucky shrugs his shoulder “Not...not so well, it was...weird,” he tells as he recalls his father’s large claw of a hand settling down on his shoulder, and how it felt like more of a warning than anything “‘cause I haven’t seen in him in a while, so I didn’t really know what to say, ‘n then he was rude, so I just kinda...stood there. Didn’t really know what to say.” 

“What did he say exactly?” Mrs. Rogers asked. 

“I dunno he was just all ‘you must do this and that and you’re stupid’ stuff like that.” 

“Oh, I'm sorry darlin’.” 

“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting much considering what he...you know, he’s always been kinda rude.” 

“Oh, that man’s an eejit, I'm telling you. Bumped my shoulder when I was carryin’ shoppin’ in this morning,” she went on “and I turned him around like _‘Sir if you’re not_ _gonna_ _at least help me carry these groceries I'm_ _gonna_ _make an ambulance carry you instead.’_ and let me tell you the _glare_ I got from him was like no other. He’s like a Wiseguy but without the money, just an utter headache.” 

Bucky chuckles slightly “Thanks.” 

“Oh no problem darling.” she comforted “My own father wasn’t great either, he wasn’t horrible, but he just made it obvious he didn’t care very much.” she sighed “Just remember James, you can come to me for whatever you need, alright? Your mother and I both care so much about you and, Stephanie. We’re right here.” 

“Thanks, Mrs. Rogers.” 

“No problem, James.” 

Bucky smiles back at her as she gets off of the bed and exists the room. 

* 

Stephanie shoots up in her bed. The first thing she notices aside from the fact that she has now apparently awoken from sleeping, is the stabbing pain in her abdomen. 

She leans forward and clutches the lower end of the stomach where it feels like she’s being stabbed from the inside out, almost like she’s being put on a skewer and cooked over an open fire. Or like an evil monster is carving her intestines out with its claws. 

The pain is unbearable, it feels as though she’s been stabbed and his insides are being ripped out. She feels as if he’s being raked over the coals. 

It’s nothing like she’s ever experienced before. It really _hurts._

She doesn’t even bother trying to hold back the hot tears she feels streaming down her face. 

Stephanie begins to panic, what on earth is happening to her, she feels like she’s dying—oh God is she? She’s never been stabbed before but she imagines it can’t be too far off from this— 

She tries to think but her head isn’t much better—a throbbing feeling attacking her temples, not unlike how her heart is pounding against her ribcage so hard she can hear it. 

_Oh God oh God oh God oh God oh God—_

Stephanie has experienced a lot of pain in her short eleven years, asthma attacks, injuries from fights, other assorted health issues. But this has to take the cake, she feels she must’ve angered the Devil or something, that could be the only reason that warrants _this._

She reaches her arm out to the curtain beside her bed to let the morning sun in, her entire body screams as she does so. She leans over in the other direction and scrambles to get her glasses which are sitting on her bedside table. 

She lets out a horrible whine of pain which must’ve been akin to a dying animal just from how pained she sounds. 

Now being able to see, she carefully removes her arms from her burning stomach and the adrenaline tells her not to hesitate before removing the covers. 

Her heart sinks at what he sees. 

Blood. 

Blood on her night dress, blood on the sheets. 

_Oh my God._

Is she dying?! 

Why would she be bleeding—she hasn’t gotten into any fights this week, and she didn’t have a wound anywhere-- 

_What the hell?!_

She hears herself hyperventilating as her arms shake when looking down upon the fresh red stains which rest upon her nightdress and bedsheets. 

What on earth was happening to her? 

Is she dying? 

She tries to move but her entire body screams louder than a thousand tortured souls and burns hotter than a hot stove _._ It’s so unbearable that her vision is blurred by the hot tears that are running down her face. 

Why does it hurt so much? 

She feels like he’s being torn apart inside, maybe that’s what’s happening? That would explain the blood—

She yelps in pain. Her hands fly to her lower stomach once again as she leans forward in order to lessen the pain. 

“Mo-- Mom!” she calls, and her voice sounds stretched and hoarse from the crying. 

Another wave of nightmares arrives in her abdomen. 

Why does it _hurt_ so much? 

“M-MOM!” she cries as she squeezes her eyes shut just for a second. 

In under ten seconds she hears her bedroom door open, her mother rushes from where she’s standing in the doorway to come to her side. 

“mom.” she said in pain as she looked at her. 

“What’s wrong?!” she said with worry. 

“H-Hurts!” she grunted out. 

“Hurts? Where?” 

“Ma st-stomach. Hurts.” 

Stephanie almost fully leans forward with her hands clutched around her stomach; it feels like she’s being ripped apart from the inside. 

“Are you gonna be sick?” her mother asks with a tone of urgency as she rubs her back. 

She shakes her head as much as she could without disrupting her stomach “‘M bleedin’, Ma. B-But I don’t-- ‘m not injured—” 

“Let me see.” she says as she moves the covers away. 

Her face relaxes slightly when she catches sight of the blood. 

How on earth could she be relieved? Is she not bleeding? 

“Oh,” she lets out a slight chuckle “you’re fine, darlin’. This is completely normal.” 

Her eyebrows furrow in great confusion “I-- normal? How is it normal?!” 

“Calm down honey.” she rubs her back a little more, but that does nothing to tame the agony in her stomach, she winces “Don’t worry, this is completely normal for a girl your age.” her sooths. 

She winces again “Normal...?” 

“Yes, darlin’.” her mother moves to sit down on the bed next to him “I admit I could have told you before, but I didn’t think you’d have them ‘til later, this this was a little bit of a shock.” 

“But what is it?” 

“It’s called a menstrual cycle; it just means you're growin’ up. It means that your body’s preparing itself to have a baby when you’re older.” she’s had ‘the talk’ by now, and they learn about it in school and how it all works—he'd rather not think about that right now. But he had never been told about...this, for some reason. 

“But I don’t want a baby when I’m older.” she spits out through gritted teeth, God she just wishes the pain would stop. 

Her mother’s hand is warm against her bony back “And you don’t have to, it just means you could have that option.” 

Stephanie disregards that thought, that’s never going to happen anyway “Mhm.” she nods “But why does it _hurt_ so much?” she asks painfully. 

Her mother’s facial expression is showing great empathy—wait, has she ever gone through this before? “It’s always going to hurt most the first time I think, since you’re not used to it.” she comforts. 

Stephanie does a doubletake “First--First time?” 

Her mother’s mouth opened like she was about to say something but she was cut off once she turns around to see Mrs. Barnes standing in the doorway looking incredibly worried. 

“What happened?!” she asks, stepping closer into the room. 

“Ladies’ problems.” she answers. 

Mrs. Barnes face takes on a knowing and sympathetic expression “Oh, is she alright?” 

“She’s in pain and she’s a bit shaken, but she’s alright.” her mother informs. 

Mrs. Barnes nods her head, looking a bit pained as she bit on her list slightly. 

George Barnes was now also standing in the doorway “What’s wrong with her?” he grumbled with his arms crossed. 

“Poor girl’s on her cycle.” Mrs. Barnes responds as she makes her way over to the pained young girl. 

Mr. Barnes grunted in response. 

Stephane felt quite embarrassed, she didn’t like the feeling of everyone staring at her right now, her face must look incredibly pained. 

Bucky also came racing in the room, it seemed as though the whole family was here “What happened?!” Bucky asked frantically, his pyjamas ruffled and disorganised. 

“James, will you get her some water?” Mrs. Barnes asks. 

“Okay.” Bucky responded. A small breeze of chill is felt on Stephanie’s exposed arms and her hands feel the ghost of warmth when Bucky’s hand is removed from her grasp. 

“I’ll be back in a second.” he said as he exited himself from the room, patently standing a distance away from the towering male figure which stood in the doorframe, observing the scene with a sort of repellent tranquillity that allowed him to across both as intimidating and almost unobservable, like a dick at a homicide crime scene. It gave him a very unwelcoming aura, and Stephanie wasn’t exactly jumping at the change to get acquainted with him again. 

She eyed him carefully as Bucky left the room. 

“You alright?” Mrs. Barnes worries 

“Hurts.” is all she could respond with, grunting through her teeth. 

Mrs. Barnes nodded her head. 

Stephanie’s mother looked to the other woman in the room “Could you please fetch me a rag?” she asked. 

“Yes of course.” she said as she left the room, dragging her husband with her. 

It was a while later that Bucky re-entered the room “Hey Steph.” Bucky said sweetly as he crossed his legs on the floor next to their shared bed “You alright now? Did you throw up or somethin’?” 

“No, not really, well it’s-- not really, but yeah, but not in that way.” she stammered awkwardly. 

Bucky raised a concerned eyebrow “Riiiiight. You okay though?” 

“Yeah, I swear.” she answered, feeling slightly more comfortable in the now clean sheets. 

“You better, ‘cause you’re lookin’ a lil’ pale.” 

“An’ what are you? A doctor?” 

“Hey cut it out, don’t be mean.” 

“Sorry.” 

Stephanie groans, clutching her stomach as she felt another wave of pain arrive. 

“I thought you said you were fine.” 

“I--” she winces winces “I am fine.” 

“And that’s why you’re leanin’ over like you’re dyin’?” 

“Am not. ‘S just comfier is all.” 

“You look like you’re sore.” 

“I’m fine.” she insists “Ow.” she grunts. 

Bucky sighs like he has done a million times before. He gets up off of the floor and dusts off his trousers “Where’s it hurt?” 

Stephanie can’t hide much from Bucky anymore; he sees right through her. Stephanie sighs in defeat “St-Stomach.” 

Bucky sits on the bed next to her and shuffles close to her “Do you need to throw up?” 

“No, don’t think so.” 

“You sure?” 

“Mhm. Yeah.” 

“Then what’s wrong.” 

“I’m...” 

“Huh?” 

Stephanie’s head falls to her lap as her cheeks take on a red tint as they fill up with heat “I’m...I had my...thing...” she blushes harder, embarrassed. 

“What thing?” Bucky asked incredulously. 

Stephanie lowered her voice to a very quiet tone “...Blood...” she whispered. 

“OH.” Bucky realised “ _Ew_ _!_ ” he cringed with disgust. 

“Hey!” she said as she hit her best friend in the arm. 

Bucky rubbed the spot in his forearm “Sorry, just, _ew_ _._ ” he apologised, but the look on his face conveyed that he was still at least a little bit grossed out. 

“Stop. I don’t wanna think about it.” she spits, annoyed. 

“Sorry that was mean.” Bucky apologises “‘S that what’s hurtin’ you?” 

“Yeah. Feels like I'm bein’ stabbed.” she groans. 

“I’m sorry man, that sounds like it sucks.” Bucky sympathises. 

She nods her head slowly “It does.” she winces again. Bucky’s face looks incredibly worried “Don’t feel sorry for me.” she grunts. 

Bucky shakes his head with a firm facial expression "Too bad. You’re _bleeding_.” 

“Can we _please_ stop talking about this?” she pleaded. 

“Okay, sorry.” he said apologetically “Lean on me.” he instructed softly. 

Stephanie didn’t resist as Bucky moved her head so it was leaning against Bucky’s shoulder. 

“You’re not gonna bleed on me, right?” 

Stephanie snorted “I won’t don’t worry.” Stephanie thinks about the incredibly awkward conversation she had with her mother as she handed over a rag and read out a copy of _Marjory May’s 12_ _th_ _Birthday_ to her and explained what it all meant, that’s a memory she’d rather forget. 

“Well that’s good.” Bucky replied “Are you sure you’re okay though?” 

“ _Yes._ ” 

“Okay, just makin’ sure.” he said as he leaned into Stephanie more. 

Both of the pre-teen's attention was drawn to the door as they heard it creak open. There they saw a small figure emerge from the doorframe and enter the room. As they entered the room Stephanie saw it was young seven-year-old Becca Barnes holding a glass of water, her hair was also tied up in a hair tie, she usually never had it up. 

“ _Ew_ _!_ What is _that!”_ Bucky teased as the little girl travelled farther into the room towards the bed. 

“Says you.” she said in response, sticking her tongue out, she turned to face Stephanie instead “Mommy said you needed water.” she said as she rather aggressively shoved the glass of water into Stephanie’s hands. 

“Thanks.” she thanked as the small figure retreated from the room. 

“Not gonna say you’re welcome?” Bucky yelled as she left. 

Stephanie took a small sip of the cool glass of water. 

Bucky turned to her “Hey, be careful with that, don’t drink it all at once.” 

“I know how to drink, Bucky.” 

Bucky raised his eyebrows in mock-surprise “I didn’t know that!” he fake-gasped. 

“Shut up or I _will_ bleed on you.” she threatened non-seriously. 

Bucky’s eyebrows scrunch in a manner of genuine worry “No, wait I'm sorry please don’t.” he pleaded. 

She giggled into her drink “I won’t.” 

Bucky sighed in relief. 

Stephanie smirked “...yet.” 

“Stop!” Bucky yelled. 

Stephanie giggled once again in controlled laughter, as to not upset her stomach. 

“Thanks though.” she said to Bucky. 

“Oh, don’t worry about it, I know you’re hurting.” 

She leaned into him closer “Thank you.” 

* 

Stephanie’s lungs burn inside her chest as she strains her legs keep moving. 

_“Get back here, freak!”_ is yelled after her as she tries to distance herself from the small group. 

“Faster, Stevie!” Bucky yells as he tries to pull his smaller friend away from the group chasing after them. 

Stephanie wheezes as she’s being pulled away by his faster friend. 

A loud clatter sound is made next to Stephanie’s feet, as she glances to her right, she sees the remains of a shattered bottle, if she had been only a couple of inches more to the right that could’ve it her. That almost hit her. 

“Shit!” she wheezes as she desperately tries to force her legs to work faster, but the strain in her lungs and thighs are preventing this. 

Bucky has his good hand clenched around her shirt as he pulls her along better. 

“Get-- round the corner—!” she whistled while sloppily pointing to a small ally around the corner. 

They reached said corner and Bucky yanked her round the side. They stop and Stephanie experiences great relief. 

Bucky, still holding onto her, brings her carefully towards a small doorstep for some back door and eases her down. 

“C’mon, take it easy.” he said as he eased her down onto the cool doorstep. 

She grunted and held onto the railing. 

Suddenly, Stephanie feels as though her stomach is doing backflips. She shoots up and leans over the railing and gags as though she’s about to throw up, she certainly feels like it. The throbbing sensation at her temples is almost bad enough to trigger tears from her eyes, and her throat has that feeling like when she nearly choked on Mrs. Barnes spaghetti that one time. 

“Hey.” Bucky says slightly breathless as he puts a hand on Steve’s back “You alright?” 

Stephanie nods slowly and leaned off of the railing, although she still clenched onto the cool metal as her stomach continued the roller-coaster like feeling, the tight garment around her chest felt like a cage around her lungs, digging into her ribs and suffocating her. 

“Yeah.” she wheezes. 

Bucky nods with a clenched jaw “Good ‘cause I have a lot to say.” his eyebrows are furrowed “First of all; what the hell were you thinking?!” he snaps. 

If Stephanie wasn’t feeling like she was on the verge of passing out she probably would try to stomp away in anger “I-- Bucky c’mon, you know I had to--” she tries. 

“No, you didn’t! You coulda walked away!” Bucky cuts in, his elevated voice slightly echoing through the small alleyway. 

She shakes her head “No, I couldn’t! People can’t just go around sayin’ that!” 

“Maybe! But you have to be safe!” Bucky counters, his hand is still on Stephanie’s back so she knows he isn’t too mad, but it’s not her fault that Bucky is overreacting. 

“Who are you? My mom?” 

Bucky groans “For Christ sake—what am I not allowed to worry about my best friend when she pulls stupid shi—crap like this?!” 

“But’cha don’t have to be! I was handling it!” 

“No, you weren’t! Steph! They were throwin’ you around!” 

“It wasn’t a big deal—Bucky, come on!” 

“It _is_ a big deal! You have to realise that you can’t go walkin’ around like you’re invincible! ‘Cause you’re not!” 

“So, you’re sayin’ I'm weak?” 

“I’m sayin’ that you can’t handle bein’ thrown around like boys three times your size. I just don’t want you to get hurt.” 

“But I—Bucky, you don’t understand. _Someone_ has to tell them! What they were doing is wrong!” 

“And maybe it is! But you’re not a superhero! You got limits.” 

“I-- I know that, ‘m not stupid.” 

“Then why--?” Bucky puzzles. 

Stephanie pauses for a moment “‘Cause it’s...the right thing to do, you know I don’t like bullies, Buck.” 

Bucky’s face softens and he looks much less angry. At times Stephanie feels somewhat guilty when she’s leaning over a railing on the verge of throwing up and Bucky’s yelling at her about how reckless she is, because she knows that Bucky probably doesn’t like to see his best friend on the verge of passing out after a street fight. But it’s...not her fault...it’s who she is. 

“I know you don’t, but you’re just reckless.” he confined, hie voice soft. 

A wheezy sigh left Stephanie as she looked down for a brief moment “Maybe.” her voice was quiet 

There’s a pause that practically silences the whole alleyway, save for the couple or so of city rats rustling around in the garbage scavenging for some food “Look I'm sorry for yelling.” he apologised sincerely. 

Her mouth made a line “‘M sorry too.” she breathed with guilt. 

Bucky nodded slightly “You just gotta be careful, remember when I broke my arm?” 

Stephanie winces. She briefly looks to Bucky’s cast on his left arm which is supposed to be removed soon “I told you I was sorry about that like a million times.” 

“I know you did, and I forgave you like a million times.” 

“I’m still sorry.” 

“I know you are, it’s just that I’m always havin’ to clean up _your_ mess, Stevie!” Stephanie winced and drew a sharp breath. That one stung. 

“Well you don’t have to!” she fires back 

“Yes, I do!” 

“No, you don’t!” 

“Why don’t you ever listen to—” 

Bucky’s mouth is left hanging open like a fish as he’s cut off by a middle age man wielding a rolled-up newspaper “Are you boys gonna keep it down or what?!” he caterwauled, his gravelly voice ringing throughout the small alleyway and causing a small disturbance among the rats searching for trash. 

Bucky looked baffled for a moment “N-No sir!” he yelled in response to the burly man grasping the newspaper a little too tightly. 

The man waved his arm in an exaggerated ‘shoo’ manner “Then get outta here!” he ordered. 

“We were just—” Stephanie tried. 

The man interrupted once more “OUT!” he yelled. 

“C’mon let’s go.” Bucky murmured as he gathered his smaller friend in his arms. 

“Wait, don’t pick me up, your arm—fine then.” she tried to protest but she was already scooped into Bucky’s arms, she groaned and crossed her arms over her chest in a frustrated manner. 

“Sorry, Mister!” Bucky apologised and frantically shooed out of the alleyway. 

A while later when they were a while away from the alleyway Stephanie felt irritable and was tired of being cradled like a baby “You can put me down now.” she said. 

“You sure you can walk?” Bucky asked with concern. 

“Yeah, just put me down already!” 

“Alright, jeez. Just be careful.” he said as he lowered Stephanie back to the ground. Bucky still kept a steady hand on Stephanie’s shoulder. 

A sharp pain shot through Stephanie’s legs as she leaned her weight back on them. 

“You good?” Bucky asks. 

“Mhm.” she replies, straightening her stance out, well as much as she could with her spine. 

“We should probably head back home, it’s late.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, let’s go.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> -gender dysphoria  
> -gender dysphoria-inducing things (such as mentions of puberty and anatomy)  
> -the word queer used negatively  
> -mentions of child abuse/abusive parent  
> -explicit depictions/discussions of periods  
> -mentions/portrayals of broken bones  
> -mild ableism  
> -panic attacks


	6. 1930

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! i apologise this took so long, i've been sick (not with covid) and other things have happened, and i know it's not that long but i hope you still enjoy it!!

“No!” the gravelly voice whines in annoyance “No to the _other_ left!” the old man instructed in frustration. 

The young girl furrowed her brows in both confusion and annoyance, this _was_ the left, Stephanie had no idea what other left Old Joe could be talking about. 

She feels strain in her thin arms as she clutches the box in her arms “This _is_ the other left!” she calls back. 

Old Joe groans and throws his arms up in annoyance “No it’s no—you know what, You. Boy,” he replied and turned his head to where Bucky was further over in the corner who was trying (and failing) to gather all the dust into the dust pan. The young boy peaked his head up 

“YEAH?” he answered entirely too loud. 

“Take that box from your friend there.” he instructed, and Bucky got up and jogged over to her. His faux leather shoes creaking against the worn-out wooden floorboard. 

“And, eh, give ‘er the dust pan instead.” he rasped as he fumbled his pockets for something, presumably cigarettes. Stephanie is very used to the sight of a cigarette —from adults around her all her life smoking them and the occasional older kids on the street ‘cause that was the cool thing to do, and of course, her asthma medication that everyone in her household worked tooth and nail to pay for, even her and Bucky—but nowadays, the sight of one was almost like buried treasure. Things like seemed to be second priorities recently. 

“Gimme.” Bucky said as he weaselled the box out of Stephanie’s arms, replacing it with a silly old duster and pan. Stephanie was not looking forward to being on dusting duty, even if moving boxes was by far the most painful job, she never wanted to be stuck with the _boring_ one. 

“Do you pair want this ten cents or not?” he challenged. 

Stephanie immediately nodded her head so fast she felt hair upon her eyelashes “O-Of course we do!” she clarified. 

Old Joe raised an eyebrow “Then get dustin’!” 

“Right away sir.” she answered and got down on her knees, sweeping small bits of dust into the pan. 

Stephanie wiped her arm across her forehead, she felt all gross and sweaty now. Her ‘work days’ on Friday’s after school took way much more of her energy that she’d expect, even for her. Usually, Old Joe would just pay them to watch his cat when he wasn’t around the house. But ever since the banks went crazy back in October of last year, he’d insisted that he pays them ‘for their effort’. Which was very nice of him, and very useful, as it seems. The first time Stephanie had almost rejected the pay outright, but then Old Joe and Bucky convinced her to take it. And it had been a regular thing ever since. 

It wasn’t nearly close to an actual sustainable wage, but it at least made the feelings that Stephanie was burdening everyone with her medical expenses easier to swallow. 

“Alright.” Old Joe said and stood up from his chair, from where he was standing, he couldn’t’ve been that much bigger than Stephanie, considering Bucky towered over him like a bean stock. But there was something still intimidating in him with his piercing eyes, permanent scowl and harsh wrinkles that framed his face in an edgy way, not to mention the gash over his nose that Stephanie’s mother had reminded her to _never_ ask questions about. 

From the way he carries himself, Stephanie imagined that he may have been tall once, and perhaps it’s just his hunched-back preventing him. 

His shaky brown hand reached into his pocket and pulled out his frayed wallet. 

“Now make sure this goes to your mothers like we promised.” he said and placed the coins in Bucky’s hand “Do I get a ‘yes sir?’.” he challenged, his dark eyes piercing into Stephanie’s. 

“Yes sir!” both of them answered. 

Old Joe nodded his head “Good. Now get outta my sight, and be careful on your way home.” 

“Yes sir, we will.” Bucky answered as they both headed out the door. 

Coming down the stairs and out the front door of Old Joe’s apartment complex, Bucky prompted “Do you think this will be over at some point?” 

Stephanie sent him an incredulous look “What do you mean?” she asked. 

Bucky made a vague gesture to nothing in particular “Y’know, all _this._ Like, do you ever think we’ll get to spend money normally again?” he wondered. 

All Stephanie could offer was a shrug “I dunno, Buck. I would like it to.” 

Bucky sighed “‘Cause y’know sometimes it really gets on my nerves. Ma shouldn’t be breakin’ ‘er back workin’ about three jobs just so we get food on the table. ‘N your ma shouldn’t be stuck at home mindin’ my baby sisters all day. ‘S not fair.” 

“An’ they can’ even go to any schools right now ‘cause they ain’t openin’ any more schools ‘til they got the fundin’. So I gotta read ‘em nursery books ‘n shit so they don’t end up fuckin’ illiterate like I am. There’s gotta be at least _one_ smart person in this damn house.” 

“You’re not _illiterate_ —” 

“Yeah? Well, doesn’t matter. I don’t want ‘em to grow up stupid.” 

“They’re toddlers, Bucky.” 

“I know that, I just—there’s gotta be at least one of us that won’t grow up an idiot.” 

“I don’t count?” 

“Definitely not.” 

Stephanie playfully hits Bucky. 

Bucky sighs “I just, I dunno I'm just frustrated.” he groans. 

“Yeah, I get that.” Stephanie answers “I’m frustrated too sometimes, like, just knowing that stuff isn’t always gonna be the way you want really, really sucks.” she laments “Like, y’know, if there was a way to do a lot of the stuff the way I wanted I would do it. But some things you just can’t help, or change.” she sighs “Sorry, didn’t mean to rant. 

“No, no it’s okay.” Bucky reassures, he kicks a rock beneath his feet “A lotta things just suck right now, and y’know, I try to help but sometimes I just think I'm wasting my time.” 

Stephanie felt a pain shoot through her chest and she stops walking momentarily, she grunts. 

Bucky also stops and puts a hand on her shoulder “You okay?” he asks, worried. 

Stephanie straightens herself out, with some difficulty as she feels the pain in her chest continue, but she’ll just have to put up with it “Yeah,” she grunts “I’m okay, Buck.” 

Bucky nods and takes his hand off her shoulder, and she can feel the warmth leave her “But y’know you can always come to me, right?” Bucky says. 

Stephanie nods “I know, Buck.” 

“You promise you will?” 

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” 

* 

Brittle nails of small bony fingers buzz in pain as she scratches. Pulls and tugs at the pale flesh that encases her, her short nails create small indentations in the skin. Little marks that will disappear soon, leaving no trace. 

She claws at them once more, but it doesn’t change a damn thing. They’re still there. 

She can feel the skin at the verge of breaking, she can feel where her short but sharp nails previously where, and the little white lines they left behind. They’re vicious and jagged in nature and Stephanie can tell just exactly where her nails dug into the heinous piles of fat that refused to go away. 

In her shortness of breath, she leans on hand on the bathroom sink for balance. 

Her vision is blurred by her hot tears that fill her eyes. She can feel imprints of where her nails just were stinging with a viciousness that couldn’t be matched. It hurt; it was a horrible feeling that made her entire body cringe. The damaged pieces of skin left a strained pain that reminded her of how her chest felt—but inside. 

Her bony fingers can pinch and pull at her thighs all she wants; they’re not changing shape. The new softness and curve to them would still be there when she took her hand away and all she would have is bruised and red skin that her mother will ask questions about. But Stephanie believes, in her own naïve nope and stupidity, that maybe if she keeps trying, they’ll eventually mould into the way she wants. The way they’re supposed to be. 

This is how it works right? If her body won’t grow the right way, she’ll...do it herself. 

If only it were as simple as her hair was, a pair of scissors and a grimy bathroom was all she needed. 

When Stephanie thinks about it, she feels a bag of feelings mixed with confusion and more confusion. It didn’t make sense to her, at all. She had read every book she could find, and she had listened to awkward and unhelpful teacher after awkward and unhelpful teacher. She has heard almost everything there is to hear about puberty. She remembers it too, when boys are about 12-13, their voices will start growing and they’ll get taller and hairier too. 

But young Stephanie was only met with confusion and frustration when she was met with neither of them. It had made absolutely no sense to her, and it still quite confuses her to this day. Instead, her body seemed to be morphing in an entirely different way. A way that made no sense to her and only brought her anguish. 

It had to be a mistake, right? Just a simple mistake of nature that’ll surely correct itself along the way. The only problem with that is, that’s what she had been telling herself for...years, now. As much as she wants to believe it, she just can’t bring herself to. Because even deep down, she knows that in no way is this a mistake. It was meant to be, and it was happening. No matter what Stephanie thought about it, or how much she wished it wasn’t. 

Deep down she knows that no amount of scratching or clawing at herself will change a damn thing. It won’t stop the shape of her chest poking out from underneath her baggy shirt, and it won’t stop her thighs expanding when she sits down. She knows that, no matter how much food she would refuse to eat or what she would refuse to wear. Nothing was going to change, things would continue, business as usual. 

A sharp and shaky breath escape’s Stephanie’s fragile lungs, she runs her hands down her face as she braces herself for a horrible realisation. It’s inevitable, isn’t it? That one day, Stephanie would have to suck it up and become a lady, to stop being childish and just to what she’s being told to for once. Every other...girl had managed it just fine, so why couldn’t she? 

She splashes her face with cold water, as to cleanse her mind, of sorts. 

By now, the marks on her skin have all but faded. 

Wiping off her wet face with a towel, she sighs. Her mother won’t be pleased that she’s up this late. 

* 

Bucky and Stephanie were walking down the street, making their way back from school. Steph surprisingly wasn’t feeling too tired today, she had the weekend just to herself so she spent it lying in bed, a boring weekend but a restful one. 

“—I’m just sayin’, Buck, I told you that—” Stephanie rambled, but was cut off. 

“Steph.” Bucky said in urgency “ _Steph._ ” he said again and began hitting her shoulder in order to get her attention. Stephanie looked in the direction he way indicating to. 

“What?” she asked. 

When she looked up at Bucky’s face, she noticed the red tint on his pale cheeks, and his eyes had gone all round as his gaze seemed to be fixed in front of him “I think...I think I've seen an angel.” he flustered. 

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” puzzled. 

“I- look!” Bucky then grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look at this girl about 20 feet away from them, she had dark curly hair that bounced freely against her flawless shiny smooth skin. Time seemed to stop as twisted her silky hair around her thin finger as a smile crept onto her face as she laughed along to something one of her friends said. 

She looked back at Bucky and he was nothing if not star-struck, Stephanie could almost see hearts in his eyes, and his cheeks were as red as roses. Stephanie smiled and giggled as she looked upon her blushing friend. 

Bucky gave her a dirty look “What?” 

She snorted “Nothin’ just, you got a crush, Barnes?” she teased as she rubbed his shoulder against him, he shoved her off. 

“N-No! No way!” Bucky mumbled aggressively, rubbing his ear with his left hand nervously. His face was almost as red as a fresh batch of roses “Nu-uh no way, I don’t have a crush—what's a crush?” 

Stephanie snorted “Sure, Buck. Whatever you say.” she remarked sarcastically. She swallowed as her throat felt dry for some reason. 

“It’s not funny.” he grumbled, hiding his tomato-red hands in his pockets. 

“Aw, I'm just teasin’ Buck!” she joked as she playfully elbowed him a couple times. 

Bucky tried to hide his face from her and Stephanie smiled playfully. 

From about 20 feet away the girl in question sent a bright smile in their direction. Stephanie saw Bucky nearly buckle from beside her. The girl then returned to her friends. 

“Buck did you see that? She looked at you!” 

Bucky straightened himself out and attempted to look unbothered “No way, she’s lookin’ at you.” 

Stephanie sent her friend a very strange look “No? She's lookin’ at you.” she said in confusion, why on earth would she be looking at Stephanie? She was obviously looking at Bucky “She _is_ pretty though, so I don’t blame you if you have a crush—” 

She was cut off by Bucky making a groaning sound. 

“Why don’t you go over there?” she suggested. What could possibly happen? He's just a boy, and she’s just a girl. 

Some of the pink vanished from Bucky’s skin, but his face still looked as bright as a strawberry, his Adam’s apple bobbled in his throat as he gulped “Fine, I'll go over there. But only as a dare.” Bucky responded firmly. 

Stephanie smiled “Go on!” she said as she slightly shoved her larger friend into the direction of the brunette. 

“Okay! I’m going!” Bucky said as he was about to walk over, but turned to Stephanie one more time, he straightened out his shirt collar and bent down to stare at his reflection in a puddle and licked a finger and smoothed out his hair. He looked like a complete dork and completely love-struck. 

“Hurry up you flirt.” she teased. 

Bucky straightened up “I am nobody’s flirt.” he responded. 

“Maybe not yet—” 

“Okay jeez, I'm going over!” he said. And Stephanie couldn’t help but notice how wide the boy’s smile was, it was one of those boyish goofy smiles you would make when you were just having fun and wouldn’t even think about or notice, not the calculated cocky smirk Stephanie was used to, it was different in an odd way. 

Stephanie silently cheered her friend on as he walked over to her, he momentarily stopped and turned back at his best friend to an almost mockingly two finger salute. 

She smiled as she watched his figure get smaller and smaller. 

* 

It was a different day and Stephanie was rested on her couch; her attention was turned to the door as her best friend just walked in. 

“Hey Buck.” she greeted. 

“Hey... Steph.” he greeted in return, his voice had an airy tone to it like he was out of breath, almost like he had been running. 

“You okay?” she asks. 

Bucky nods as he slumps onto the seat next to her, he puts a hand over his heart as his chest moves up and down “Just...outta breath is all. Been...Been running.” he wheezed. 

This raised more questions than it answered “Running?” she echoed. 

Bucky nodded his head “Yeah, Izzy’s old man caught us...in the garage...had to leave...real quick. It was crazy her brother had a broom ‘n everything.” he relayed as he adjusted to a more comfortable position. 

Stephanie’s brows furrowed “I thought you said Izzy didn’t have a garage.” 

Bucky just smiled “I did?” he replied as he adjusted his messed-up collar “Crazy.” he then stood up and stretched “Anyways, Ma says it’s my turn to do the dishes so that’s what I'm gonna go do.” 

Things were moving too fast for Stephanie to think, so all she ended up saying as Bucky walked out the room was “—Bucky your shoes!” but by that time he had left. 

Well...that was confusing, Stephanie thinks, certainly odd. But she doesn’t really think of it further and just attributes it to tiredness. It had been a long week, after all. 

* 

Stephanie moves her pencil lightly across the page, the quiet sketch of her pencil leaving fine graphite against the page in her sketchbook. She makes another line over the nose, making it’s bump more prominent. 

All is quiet and peaceful until she hears a familiar noise commit from beside her. 

“What’re you drawing?” the voice says, she turns to see it’s the face of her best friend Bucky. He sits down on the bench next to Stephanie. 

“O-Oh, um.” Stephanie stammers and tries to move her sketchbook away from Bucky’s view. 

“Aw, come on.” Bucky says as he crooks his neck to try and get a peak “Lemme see!” Stephanie then moves her sketchbook closer to her chest, hiding it’s view from the boy. 

“No, Buck. It’s mine.” she affirms, giving him a stern look. Usually, she would absolutely adore sharing her art with her best friend, but sometimes she just liked her things to be personal. 

Bucky gives her a slightly disappointed look “Gee, if you say so then.” he replies, kicking a rock on the ground beneath the bench. 

She sighs but says nothing further and continues sketching, this time angled in such a way that the boy couldn’t see the drawing on the paper. 

It’s quiet before Bucky says again “I’m sorry by the way.” 

Stephanie raises her gaze to look at him, the sunlight hits his greyish-blue eyes just perfectly in such a way that they appear to be glistening “It’s okay, Bucky.” she replies, not mad. She glances back at the paper, it doesn’t look too great and it’s not her greatest work by a long shot, perhaps it won’t hurt to share it “Okay, fine.” she gives in and hands Bucky the sketchbook. 

He thanks her with a smile and takes it in his hands. His eyebrows pinch together slightly as his eyes linger on the page “Who is this?” he asks, his tone laced with confusion. 

Stephanie suddenly felt her cheeks get very warm “Uh-n-no-one.” she stammers. 

“Uh come on!” Bucky says “He has to be someone.” 

Stephanie says nothing and simply takes the pad back. She momentarily stares at the boy’s face, he looked quite a bit like herself, she thinks, only with a few differences. The boy’s eyes were almost identical, they were bright blue and they both had the same fold of skin over their eyelid. He was also small and thin just like her, the body was almost exactly the same, just without Stephanie’s imperfections. And they both had the same small bump on their nose. 

The folds the bad over quickly and sets it aside, trying not to think about it too much. 

Bucky had a strange look “Anyways I miss you bud!” he exclaims “I feel like we haven’t hung out in ages!” he said. Stephanie took a second to think about that, it wasn’t entirely untrue, Stephanie couldn’t really think of a time in the past couple of weeks where they both had each other's full attention, or if they were together it was always work of school. Whenever Stephanie did have free time Bucky always seemed to be off somewhere. 

Not that it bothered Stephanie, of course. Bucky deserved to have his own freedom...they weren’t seven-years-old anymore. 

“Yeah, I guess.” was the best answer Stephanie could give, she had been sort of tired as of late. 

Bucky looked slightly hurt by her unenthusiastic answer. 

“Sorry, Buck. I’m just tired.” she tried. 

Bucky sighed “Yeah, I just feel like it’s been ages since we’ve properly hung out, is all.” 

Stephanie sighs in return “Yeah,” she huffs “I get that. I guess we’re just both sorta busy” she answers, that was a complete lie, Stephanie couldn’t be more bored as of late. If she has to spend one more afternoon alone in her room she is going to snap. 

“Oh—” Bucky remarked “Well then, I guess I don’t feel so bad!” he huffed, relieved. 

Stephanie tried to swallow a lump in her throat “Yeah, don’t worry about it Buck.” 

* 

Stephanie is sitting with her legs crossed on her own bed—yes, her very own! Recently their parents had managed to scrape up enough money to get her and Bucky separate beds. Which made from some great privacy, and Bucky had certainly seemed to enjoy it, seeing as he woke up every morning with bruises complaining how Stephanie kicked in her sleep. But Stephanie would just shake her head and roll her eyes, there's no way she kicks _that_ hard. She bets Bucky just made that up. 

It had been a quiet Sunday afternoon, the colder weather meant that Stephanie was meant to stay inside more often so she wouldn’t catch a cold, and Bucky had gotten in trouble for kissing another one of the neighbourhood girls his age, their fathers had not approved. So, Bucky was mostly sulking at his side of the room carving something into his bedside table, muttering occasional curses under his breath. 

_“Ow.”_ Bucky yelped and shook his hand, he seemed to have grazed it slightly with the pencil that he was aggressively battering up the bedside table with. 

“Y’know.” Stephanie said, looking up from her drawing “If you just stayed inside like you were told, this wouldn’t’ve happened.” she remarks, Bucky turns to look at her with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Like you can talk, little miss ‘I got grounded last week because I can’t keep my hands off Joe Eisenberg’s fat nose.” he remarked “Is that the name? Or was it John? Jimmy? Gilmour—” Bucky trailed off. 

Stephanie cut him off “Alright that’s enough.” she shot back and sat up properly, or as straight as she could “That’s different.” she defended. 

“Oh _sure._ ” Bucky answered sarcastically. 

Stephanie rolled her eyes before she felt the urge to answer a probing question that was on her mind “What’s your obsession anyway? With, y’know...girls?” 

Bucky gave her incredulous look “What do you mean?” he looked at her like she had three heads. 

The young girl shrugged her shoulders “I dunno, like why do you gotta have a new girl to kiss each week. I can barely keep up with ‘em.” Stephanie said. 

Bucky shrugged his shoulders and smiled “Why not? It’s all just fun ‘n games, don’t worry about it pal.” Bucky assured, placing his battered pencil on the bedside. 

“I just hope you’re treatin’ those girls right.” 

Bucky giggled playfully “‘Course I am, Stevie! What kinda guy do you take me for?” Bucky teased light-heartedly. 

After a moment of a weird silence, Bucky suddenly had a strange look on his face, which usually meant he was about to come up with something that would get them both into trouble, it was a look Stephanie herself was not unfamiliar of dawning. 

“What is it?” Stephanie asked. 

“You know what?” Bucky said and then stood up abruptly and moved to sit next to Stepahanie on her bed. The bed sank as it took in Bucky’s weight. 

Stephanie angled her head to look at her best friend, his bright blue eyes looked back into hers “What is it?” she puzzled. 

“Kiss me.” Bucky told. 

Stephanie did a doubletake and her mind short-circuited “What—huh, y-you want me to do what—?” she stammered, flabbergasted. It was almost as if her mind was having trouble processing what he just said. Bucky was her best friend, like a brother to her. So, what— “I’m, you’re kiddin’.” 

Bucky snorted “No, I'm serious.” he replied with no trace of mockery in his tone “‘Cause you said you don’t get what all the fuss was about, so I wanna show you.” Bucky explained confidentially with that devilish little smile of his. 

Stephanie raised one eyebrow “And you’re sure about this?” she queried. 

“Yup!” Bucky answered with an upwards jerk of his head. 

Stephanie sighed nervously, she could hear her heart racing in her chest “Buck, I dunno.” 

Bucky took Stephanie’s hand “Aw, come on man!” Bucky said “It’ll be fun! Plus, it’ll be good practise for when you get a boyfriend later on.” 

“I am never getting a boyfriend, Bucky.” she remarked. 

This made Bucky laugh “Come on, I won’t bite, I swear.” he promised. 

Stephanie sighed and shrugged her shoulders. She supposes it’s fine, she doesn’t exactly see a reason why not “Yeah, okay.” she agrees. 

Bucky’s next move was almost so quick that if Stephanie blinked, she could’ve missed it. As Bucky’s lips collided with hers, she was surprised with how soft they were. His lips tasted somewhat sweat, Bucky’s mouth felt warm but also cool and clean. His lips were not at all chapped and pealing like Stephanie’s had been a weak ago when she had a cold sore. 

Stephanie barely had time to breathe before Bucky pulled away from her, and Stephanie felt her heart racing and her pulse rising. She could still sense the lingering taste of Bucky’s lips in her mouth. 

After a second, Bucky questioned “So...?” he asked, an unfamiliar expression on his face. One Stephanie couldn’t read. 

Feeling slightly warm, she tugged on her shirt “I mean, eh.” she answered with a shrug of her shoulders. She wasn’t exactly sure what to think. It was her first kiss ever, she wasn’t sure how they’re supposed to feel like, but she didn’t hate it. Maybe she just felt slightly odd since it had come from Bucky, someone she had considered her brother for years now. 

“ _Eh?_ Okay, gee.” Bucky echoed sarcastically. 

“It was my first kiss!” she protested “I dunno how to feel.” 

“That bad huh?” Bucky teased, smiling. 

Stephanie shrugged “Is that how you normally do it?” she asked in a teasing way. 

“Why are you so _mean?_ ” Bucky groaned and then swung a pillow at her face. 

Stephanie took the pillow in her hands and then in turn swung it back at her best friend in revenge “If that’s how it goes, I feel so sorry for those girls.” Stephanie remarked. 

“Shut up, you.” Bucky laughs. 

* 

Sometimes, Stephanie might find that her vision may sometimes linger on Bucky’s lips as she thinks of how they tasted. She didn’t exactly think about it at the time. But she finds that she can’t drink a strawberry milkshake anymore without thinking about them, and the shape of them and how they felt as they were softly pressed onto hers. Bucky tasted like strawberry’s, that was it. 

She bets that all the girls he flings with can taste the strawberry too. Do they like the taste? Or is Bucky much rougher? She finds herself wondering. 

What if Stephanie was one of those girls? Would Bucky treat her differently? Or would they still be best friends? That’s what Stephanie wonders sometimes, when her mind lingers... 

Sometimes she just wants to be like everyone else, to be normal. But she knows that impossible because it’s...her. Because she’s not like all the other girls, is she? Because she’s Stephanie Rogers, the girl who won’t wear dresses and keeps her hair short because any length longer than her chin makes her flinch when it touches her back—the girl who doesn’t really feel like a girl and who instead feels like a rather crude impersonation of femininity being paraded around as anything less of an embarrassment. To say that she felt as though she shouldn’t’ve been built this way in the first place wouldn’t be untrue. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> -mentions/depictions of self harm  
> -gender dysphoria  
> -internalised ableism


End file.
